Subliminal Messages From The Dead
by The Bloody Red Queen Of Angst
Summary: Subliminal messages, much like microexpressions, are fleeting and short lived. Missed by most, except for the rare few who know how to spot them. But when the seemingly clear cut case of suicide of a prominent musician comes across the desk of Doctor Cal Lightman, things just don't seem to add up. Disclaimer: I don't own Lie to Me. *Complete*
1. Intro

**A/N: Greetings! For those of you who don't know me, I'm an angst writer. Mostly for anime. But this idea just won't leave me alone. I have always adored Lie to Me, and the amusing antics of Doctor Cal Lightman.**

 **So, I realize that this first chapter may (or may not) be a little confusing. But this is meant to be the introduction to this story which I hope you all enjoy! And please review to let me know the level of interest in this concept!**

* * *

He couldn't feel his feet against the ground as one moved heavy in front of the other, walking past the masses of nameless, faceless souls flooding the bustling sidewalks. Like blood coursing through veins. He had been torn down. Made a walking void. Nothing. He had been reduced to nothing. He _was_ nothing.

And he _felt..._

Nothing.

He didn't register that he had finally made it to his apartment complex...a lavish, high rise building. Nor the sensation of the keys in the palm of his hand as he stood outside the door. He didn't feel his feet carry him helplessly through the threshold of darkness into his empty apartment. Empty, like himself. With a darkness he couldn't claim back from the light that had just been shed on his past. A darkness he now longed for.

He wanted it back..

That darkness that had so loyally held his deepest secrets.

He couldn't feel the sensation of his fingers as he slowly undid the laces of his thick, spiked, black leather combat boots. Slipped his feet from the protective comfort of familiar spikes and chains, separating them to set them aside from the rest of his rebellious, almost anarchistic attire. He didn't feel the cold apartment floor beneath his bare feet after removing his socks. One foot in front of the other, moving him silently through the space as he found himself paused at the beautiful, large sliding door of the balcony.

The favorite area of his home.

A space he absolutely loved...for _many_ reasons.

He stood there. Silently, for a moment. Staring through the glass door. His deep, rich chocolate brown gaze took in the vast expanse of the city from the silent safety of his living room. He watched, for a moment, as the city lights fought against the dying sun like vigil candles flickering against whispers in the silent sanctuary of a holy church. The refracted light from the city skyline against the sliding door brought out the more subtle warmth of amber and gold flecks in his now lifeless eyes as he watched the death of this day before his hand finally found its way to the handle.

Long slender, calloused fingers tipped in gothic black polish moved of their own accord as they curled around the handle to open the sliding door. Stepping lightly through the threshold into the elements and faint city noise below, he couldn't feel the biting cold of the unforgiving concrete of the balcony underneath his bare feet.

Nothing.

He _felt_ nothing.

He _was_ nothing.

Nothing, as he made his way to the rail. Nothing, as his feet lifted him up and over each slat. Nothing, as his toes delicately touched the concrete on the other side of the rail, turning him like a graceful dancer to face out towards the city. Nothing, as his fingers gripped and twisted the rail. Nothing, as the weight of his tall, almost awkward lanky frame was held suspended by arms that held him weightless above the world below him.

He should feel something.

Anything.

He wanted desperately to feel again.

...anything at all...

All of the time he had spent running. Hiding. Violently forcing _everything_ down with alcohol and pills. All of the fear. Pain. Rage. He wanted it back.

Maybe if he just let go.

Maybe _then_ he might feel something. Anything...but this agonizing emptiness. His body still moving and breathing, but completely disconnected. Disconnected and disjointed from any sensation. Completely hollowed out and numb. Dead.

He felt his fingertips respond infinitesimally towards this almost welcoming thought. Loosening their grip on the rail as his head hung to gaze unseeing upon the world below him. The garishly rebellious razor-blade dangling from the chain around his neck lightly swinging like a pendulum with the infinitesimal movement of his body.

All he had to do...was let go.

And this thought. It was so warm and inviting. So completely irresistible. Inevitable, and unavoidable like the gravity longing to take hold of him and pull him down.

It would be _so_ easy.

All he had to do was let go.

And in the end...with this final act.

Was nothing.

Nothing at all...but black.

Black...and the bloodcurdling sound of a horrified scream.

 _Dream  
Send me a sign  
Turn back the clock  
Give me some time  
I need to break out  
Make a new name  
Let's open our eyes  
It's a brand new day_

 _Ay_

 _Ay  
Ah-ah-ah-ah, ah_

 _Ah-ah, ah-ah_


	2. Track 1: Ghost Tears

_IASR/AFSP International Summit on Suicide Research_ _  
Wednesday,_ _November 8th, 2017_

 _Green Valley Ranch Resort, Spa, & Casino_

 _Henderson, Nevada  
_ _New Horizons for Suicide Research: From Genes to Communities_

"I bloody _hate_ these conferences." This came lowly muttered in disdain through a heavy, thick British accent.

"Come on, Cal. You _love_ being the center of attention, and you know it." A softer, feminine voice rebuked.

"Well...yeah." Cal quickly agreed with the small side bob of his head and swift shrug of his shoulders, as if this were a moot point.

 _"Especially_ when it comes to a large crowd of people just _hanging_ on your every word." The woman beside him persisted.

"Okay, fine. You _may_ have a point, yeah?" Cal agreed again, though a with a little more reluctance this time before he muttered under his breath. _"Still_ bloody hate these things, though..."

"Cal. Just stop it." His business partner, Gillian Foster chided through mounting frustration over his childish complaint. "The Lightman Group has been provided with a _generous_ donation to ensure your participation in this conference." She persisted in explaining a fact he was already well aware of. "...so just suck it up..."

"Alright then." He quipped in a snappy, almost petulant tone. "Bloody hell."

A soft, delicate sigh pushed through Gillian's nose as she gave the almost imperceptible hang of her head in what seemed like remorse. Or possibly regret, for the way she had so harshly reprimanded the man.

"Look, Cal." She whispered as they continued to stand off stage, away from the large crowd that had gathered for this annual event. "I know that this week..." Her voice continued in a soft, delicate murmur as her gaze remained downcast. "With the...nature...and subject of this conference..." She spoke softly, slowly, attempting to choose her words carefully in present company. "Well...I know this hasn't exactly been _easy_ for you."

"...yeah..." This came short and dismissive in response to her consolation.

"You know...if you ever want to-"

"Talk about it?" Cal cut off her words preemptively, gaining her eyes from the floor as the two held the other's gaze.

"Yeah."

"Yeah, alright." He quickly averted his eyes from her gaze as he stared out towards the large crowd. "Maybe." This came a soft concession.

One that he never actually took her up on. Not yet. Though she had offered many times. As the two stood together, waiting for him to go on stage and speak, not another word was spoken.

"Now the Summit would like to give a warm welcome to our next guest speaker, Doctor Lightman of The Lightman Group. The world's leading deception expert."

"Looks like that's my cue to bugger off." Cal muttered, his tone a bit cheeky as he gave Gillian a smug little side smile.

"So bugger off." She smiled back with the shake of her head as he turned and made his way towards the podium and microphone.

"Hi... hi. I'm Cal Lightman." He quickly introduced himself, giving a small, almost comically dismissive wave to the introduction he had just received before he went into his speech. "So this conference, yeah?" Cal's words came slowed in their pace, pointed and laced in a level of British snark. "It's just been _days_ of pompous jackasses...thinking they know it all, yeah? When it comes to someone wanting to kill themselves." This came blunt and almost surprisingly undignified, like a slap to the face as the audience listened in a quiet hush. "Just filling your heads with research and terms like nerobiology...and genetics..." Cal prattled on with another dismissive wave of the hand and tilt of his head. "Stuff that you probably don't understand and could give a lick about, right?" He questioned as he held the audience captivated with his candid tenacity and the way he spoke. "But why you're here... _Really_ here." His voice slowed for effect, coming almost pensive as he spoke. "Why we're _all_ here..." He persisted. "Is to figure out how to stop it from happening, yeah?" Cal gave himself over to a meaningful pause before he continued. "But how can you tell, hm?" He asked with the exaggerated tilt of his head to the crowd in rhetorical question. "I mean...how can you _really_ tell, for sure, if someone's just going to...you know..." He paused again. "...off themselves?" The flamboyant gesture of his hand followed before he continued, the tone of his voice gaining a bit of pomp, and smugness. "Because...as the world's _leading_ deception expert, yeah? I can tell you one thing for certain." Both his hands now gripped the podium as he leaned himself, continuing to speak to the audience he couldn't quite make out through the lights of the stage. "That...if you _ask_ a suicidal person, outright, if they're planning on killing themselves...they _will_ lie to you."

"So then..." He whispered...almost to himself, it seemed. "How can you tell?" Cal asked in a breathy murmur before catching himself and continuing with his lecture.

"The Facial Action Coding System..." He spoke, his voice taking on a level of casual confidence. "Looking at faces, yeah?" Cal once again paced himself in his words as he continued. "Because people? People lie." This truth fell bluntly from his lips. "But their faces?" He stared off into the crowd he couldn't quite see. "The face _never_ lies." This came declared with certainty. "And the face...it can tell you if someone's just messing with you, yeah..?" He murmured grimly. "Or if they're _really_ about to off themselves."

The rest of his lecture was like so many others. Filled with slides. Pictures of faces for proof and examples of his work. His passion and lifelong study. Because so many people believed that what he did was a mere parlor trick.

A hoax, to some.

An illusion, to others.

But what everyone else saw as bordering on magic, or some form of clairvoyance, Cal knew as _anything_ but.

What he saw now, in an instant, on someone's face had taken him almost a lifetime to learn.

...and it had come too late, and at great personal cost...

As the conference concluded and he had finished wowing the audience with his knowledge, Cal began to ready himself and find his colleague before his focus was derailed by the softest call of his name.

"Doctor Lightman..?" This came whispered as he cast his gaze over his shoulder to see who had just spoken to him.

To call the young woman, seemingly in her mid twenties, _petite_ would have been a gross understatement. But...something about her immediately dew Cal in. Even through the timid apprehension shaping her features, she was soft. Everything about her was soft. Every angle. Every curve. Every edge of her was gently rounded, from her delicate eyebrows, full pouting lips, to the tips of her chin and button nose.

Even the waves of her short, blond hair curled and softly curved along the contorts of her jaw in the dainty bob it had been cropped into.

"Hello..." Cal murmured as he turned to face her. "And you are..?" He asked as she immediately cast her gaze to the floor.

She had eyes like an impending storm, he noticed before she had looked away.

Not quite blue.

But not quite gray, either.

"My name's Kate." She murmured quietly through those full lips. "Kate Littleton." And Cal effectively bit back the snarky comment that came to mind about the irony of her name with her stature as the woman pinched her lips together.

Seeming to want to say more, but not quite knowing where to even start.

"Can I help you, love?" His brows knit together, gazing upon her face as it continued to speak to him through her silence.

"I'm really not sure..." The young woman murmured in response with the light shake of her head as she kept her gaze fixated on the floor below.

"Come on with it now." Cal coaxed, his tone strangely gentle towards the young woman's hesitation. "Well..." He persisted softly. "Get on with it." He gave the tilt of his head to attempt gaining her gaze from the floor.

"It's...my boyfriend." She whispered.

"What?" This came a bit blunt in his thick accent. "Is he a bit of a wanker?" He asked bluntly with a level of harsh snark. "Did he go and muck about, hm? Cheat on you?" Cal asked, taking in the young woman's grief and expression of sadness.

"No..." This came another weak murmur through full lips as she finally lifted her eyes to meet his penetrating gaze. "...he killed himself..."

"Well damn." He bit his tongue a loud huff of a sigh, as if the air had been punched out of him. "I really should have seen _that_ one coming."

"Yeah. Me too." She whispered back on the verge of tears.

"I'm really sorry about that, love." He tactfully looked around for his business partner as he spoke, wondering where Gillian had gone off to. "My better half is usually here to save me from putting my foot in my mouth, yeah?" This managed to gain a small, fleeting smile from the grief stricken woman as she gave the small bob of her head in understanding.

"That's alright." She whispered before her gaze went to her feet once more.

"So your boyfriend..." Cal spoke, his words slowed and paced as he navigated this impromptu meeting. "...he went and offed himself then, yeah?" He asked, watching as the woman flinched towards the bluntness of this harsh statement. "...when..?" Cal asked a little softer as the woman gave a small, sad sigh.

"Three days ago." She whispered, continuing to avoid his gaze.

"...how..?" Cal inquired, taking in her expression and the way she seemed to be hiding something...

But what..?

"He jumped off the balcony of his apartment." She murmured through full lips and a breathless voice laced in agony. "From the sixteenth floor..."

"Bloody hell..." Cal gave a whispered hiss to this news as he himself gave a dismayed shake of his head.

As the two held a moment of silence over what the woman had courageously declared in confidence, she dug through the pocket of her blue jeans with delicate fingertips before producing a photo, handing it to Cal.

"Aden..." The young woman whispered her deceased boyfriend's name through trembling lips.

Cal took the offered photograph. And what he saw, was a young man in his early twenties, dressed in rebellious black, gothic, somber attire. A man, Cal thought in surprise, that didn't seem like the type of dark persona to attract the affections of this delicate, soft young woman standing before him.

But then...he supposed he had heard something about opposites attracting.

Lean, angular almost jaggedly sharp facial features. High cheekbones, thin lean lips, and dark, rich chocolate brown eyes that looked away and avoided the camera's gaze. A long, slender nose coming pierced with a prominent, rebellious nose ring. Rebellion that continued with the cut of his hair. Aggressively shaved on one side with bangs swept to the other and tipped in dark electric blue.

"A bit of a dreary fellow, aye?" He asked as he continued to gaze at the photograph.

"Yeah...I guess you could say that." She whispered in a soft, breathy voice of admittance to this fact.

"But you don't think he'd go and kill himself, yeah?" Cal questioned as he finally lifted his gaze from the photo.

"No." The young woman murmured lightly through the shake of her head, her stormy gaze tearing up as she spoke. "He _definitely_ jumped."

"Then..." Cal gave the curious cant of his head. "...what?"

"Things..." The young woman breathed just above a whisper. "...things weren't _always_ great between Aden and I." She admitted as she met Cal's gaze. "We had what I guess you would call an on-again-off-again relationship." He listened intently as she spoke, allowing her to pace herself and find her words. "When we were apart...things were awful. But when we were together..." She breathed through full lips. "He always seemed to be...better, you know? When he actually _wanted_ me around."

"So, the two of you were off this time around, then?" Cal asked with the furrow of his brows.

"No, Doctor Lightman." She whispered through soft unobtrusive tears and the light shake of her head. "That's just it." Her words came laced in grief and dismay. "We had just gotten back together, and things were going great." Soft, full lips trembled with these words as she held his curious gaze.

"So you think something happened, yeah?" Cal asked. "Something that made him _want_ to end it all?"

"I don't know." She looked away with that same doubt and apprehension. "I guess..." The young woman murmured softly. "I guess I was just hoping that you would be able to find out..."

"Find out what, love?" He questioned as her tentative gaze flitted back to him, her soft voice manifesting through a pained, agonized whispered moan.

"...why..?"

"I'll see what I can do, love." Cal uttered quietly in response before his personal space was broached as the woman hugged him before quickly backing away.

"Thank you." She whispered, her soft, tender voice laced in equal parts gratitude and embarrassment as her tear stained cheeks came dusted the faintest shade of pink.

And as he watched the young woman shyly scurry away to exit the lecture hall, another light effeminate voice perforated his consciousness.

"What was _that_ all about?"

"Oi!" Cal turned to his business partner with the raise of his eyebrows. " _There_ you are." He exclaimed. "About bloody time you showed up."

"Since when have _you_ ever had trouble talking to attractive women by yourself, Cal." Gillian quipped with an amused smile.

"When they start giving me pictures of their dead boyfriends, is when." He retorted, causing Gillian's expression to fall with the seriousness of this statement.

"Really..?" She whispered, catching the last glimpse of the young woman as she left before looking to Cal once again.

"Yeah..." He murmured just as grimly as he handed her the photo he had been given. "She came to the conference wanting to talk to me about him."

"What happened?" Gillian asked hesitantly as she took the photograph, gazing upon the somber face in the picture.

"Killed himself." Cal stated bluntly. "Decided to take a bit of a swan dive from his balcony, aye." He watched his partner absorb this fact like a slap to the face. "But she seems to have it in her head that something happened." He murmured lowly as he thought over this. "That maybe he was given a bit of a _push_ before he jumped, if you get my drift." This statement came heavy with insinuation over the untimely gruesome demise of the young man in the photograph.

The young woman's on-again-off-again lover.

"...and what do _you_ think..?" This came whispered as Cal held his gaze to the door the young woman had exited from.

"I think she may be on to something..."

* * *

 **A/N: So in doing some research and looking into for this chapter, I found out some pretty interesting stuff.**

 **Such as...Lie to Me is based off of the work of** **Paul Ekman. Interesting stuff. Go check out the website at** **www . ekmaninternational . com (spaces removed, of course).**

 **That, and there really IS a conference. Go figure.**

 **I hope that this chapter has been sufficiently entertaining, and has managed to build upon the mystery and intrigue of this budding case! As this is my first story for Lie to Me, feel free to let me know how I'm doing!**

 **Also, in ending, I'd like to say that Kate Littleton and her boyfriend Aden (McCaffery) are mine, and mine alone. Hope you enjoy them, though!**


	3. Track 2: Ghost Shadows

_Lightman Group Headquarters_

 _Washington, DC_

"Oi! Loker! Torres!" This came hollered out through the halls of the otherwise quiet, pristine office space.

"Great..." Eli muttered almost bitterly as he sat hunched over his laptop computer. "They're back."

"Don't look so glum, Loker." Ria warned. "He can sense it."

"Yeah yeah." Eli muttered again under his breath. "I know."

"Come on, Loker." Ria swiveled in her seat to glare at the back of the petulant looking young man glowering at his computer. "You've been like this since they left, and it's driving me nuts." Her voice came a hiss of irritation towards her colleague's distasteful mood, burrowing her dark gaze into the back of his head. "What is _with_ you?!"

And with this, Eli Loker swiftly twisted in his seat to face the attractive Latina woman verbally chastising him.

Normally, he would find that _more_ than a bit arousing.

But not today.

"Why is it that we _never_ get to go anywhere?" He asked bluntly, watching the woman's brows knit together in mild confusion. "I mean...he didn't even _ask_ if I wanted to go."

"Oh my _gosh,_ Loker." Ria hissed out. " _That's_ what this is about?!"

"Yeah." Eli responded almost flatly.

"So you're upset." Ria gave brief pause in her slowed words before continuing. "Because you didn't get to go?" She asked again, not really able to wrap her mind around this new low the man had just sunk to.

"Is that so hard to believe?" Now it was Eli's turn to be a bit baffled as he answered her question with this question.

"You're worse than a puppy with separation anxiety." She chided as the man gave a smug smile.

"And just as cute, too. Right?" He quipped self-confidently.

"Just as _obnoxious,_ is more like it." Ria spat towards his smug little smirk of a smile as she continued to scowl at him. "They went to a _conference,_ Loker." She bit back her irritation while reminding him of this as they both leaned into this bizarre, hushed conversation.

"Yeah." Eli gave the baffled twitch of his head to her through a squinted gaze. "In _Vegas_."

"It was on _suicide research_ and _prevention._ " Her tone was terse and disbelieving as her facial expression reflected a level disgust towards the man's lack of tack.

"So?" Eli retorted. "You're point being?" He asked bluntly through absolutely no show of shame.

"Unbelievable." Ria muttered this whispered, disapproving hiss under her breath with the dismayed shake of her head.

"Well how _else_ am I ever going to get a paid vacation to Vegas?" He asked through the brutality of his radical honesty.

"That's just sick, Loker." Ria chastised harshly in disgust before the two were startled out of their conversation.

"Oi!" This came shouted through the door as the sound of it finally split the two of them apart. "Didn't you hear me calling you?"

"Sorry, boss." Eli quickly blurted out this apology as he gaze up at Cal.

"Down, boy." Ria whispered lightly under her breath towards her colleague's almost canine-like adoration and need for approval.

"Contain your enthusiasm, Loker." Cal quipped, his words slow and amused as he sauntered into the room with swagger, reading the expression of the young man's face as Eli awkwardly cleared his throat.

"So how was it?" Eli asked in an attempt to save some face in front of the master.

"Oh, you know..." Cal mused with a snarky little cockeyed smile and side-glance to his partner. "All sherry and giggles." And Gil looked to the floor as she tried to hide a small smile towards Cal's off-hand humor.

"Did you get me anything?" Eli asked tactlessly with hope in his eyes as he looked up at Cal from where he sat.

"Yup." Cal replied with the dramatized pop of his lips over this word as Eli smiled. "A new case."

And the smile immediately fell.

"Really?" Eli grumbled as his expression fell in a slight frown.

"What?" Cal gave the exaggerated cant of his head. "Disappointed, are we?"

"No." Eli muttered. "Not at all." His voice fluctuated along these words. "A new case was _just_ what I had hoped for when you left for Vegas."

"Good." Cal spat towards Eli's sardonic tone as he handed the young man the only bit of physical information he had on their newest investigation.

"Whoa." Eli exclaimed lowly as his expression furrowed and his gaze squinted along the photograph his boss had just handed him. "Where did you get _this_?" He spoke through a level of impressed awe before looking back up at Cal. "You should have got it autographed."

"What?" Cal asked with the bemused quirk of his head. "You know him, do you?"

"Um... _yeah_." This came rhetorical and just a bit caustic. "You _don't_?"

" _Should_ I? _Loker_?" This came slow, yet a bit touchy and sharply pointed with his gaze as Eli held his stare.

"This guy..." Eli held up the picture through pinched fingers, facing it towards Cal. "...is the lead singer of December's Child." He held Cal's intimidating stare as he continued. "And you _don't_ know who he is?"

Cal paused a moment. Pensive in silent thought as he stared at the photo before he looked at Eli again.

"Nope." Cal blurted out. "Can't say I've ever heard of him." And to this, Eli's gaze squinted in baffled disappointment.

"What rock do you live under?" This question came laced in equal parts disheartened disgust.

"So they _actually_ named their band after a unique Far Harbor weapon?" Ria asked curiously over the familiar name as Eli's bemused scowl only deepened.

"Wait... you play Fallout 4?" Eli turned towards Ria as Cal and Gillian simply looked on in their own confusion, now completely lost.

" _Did we just step into the Twilight Zone_?" Gillian leaned in to whisper as Cal gave the small bob of his head.

" _Mmhm..._ "

"No!" Ria snapped harshly in slight embarrassment towards Eli's question. "Do _you_?" She fired back as Eli gave a proud grin.

"Hell yeah." And Ria couldn't help but roll her eyes at his childish beaming.

"But as for the band's name..." Eli continued as he swiveled himself back to the laptop. "You'd be wrong, Torres." His fingers went to work along the keys as he spoke. "The band started about five years ago, but didn't get really popular until like...the last _two_."

"Like when _you_ finally noticed them?" Ria quipped sardonically as Eli chose to ignore her for his own voice and well of knowledge.

"Ex girlfriend, actually." Eli corrected. "Use to get turned on when she listened to them and we'd end up making out."

"Ew." Ria's face scrunched in disgust, but Eli merely gave an uncaring, dismissive shrug to her disapproval as he continued to stare at the screen.

"It seemed to work for her." He countered. "...and besides...she was _really_ hot." This came tacked on for added visual before he continued with what he knew of the band. "They took their name from the month he was actually born." He indicated towards the photograph of the man in question.

"That's a bit arrogant, isn't it?" Ria countered again as Eli flashed another, almost approving smile.

"Or just _really_ cool." He offered in rebuttal as he continued his work on the laptop, pulling up promotional websites. "But other than that, and his _very_ public career," Eli continued. "not a lot else is known about this guy." He mused lowly as he browsed forums and galleries for the band. "His personal life is a complete mystery...and he's a bit of a recluse when out of the spotlight."

"Well _that_ should make it a fun challenge when we go poke about a bit." Cal interjected through that thick accent of his as Eli looked over his shoulder questioningly.

"What exactly happened?" Ria quietly murmured the question written along Eli's face before he could so much as speak it himself.

"He killed himself." Gillian answered in the wake of Cal's silence. "Four days ago."

"But The Lightman Group doesn't normally take cases that are clear cut." Eli muttered as his probing gaze shifted from Cal to Gillian.

"No." Gillian agreed with the small shake of her head and downcast gaze. "But Cal spoke with his girlfriend, and she seems to think that maybe something happened just before his death."

"Did it?" Eli asked.

"That's what we're going to find out?" Cal responded. "Cause that's what we do, yeah?"

And to this, Eli just gave a dutiful nod of agreement that he was fully on board with the investigation as he turned his attention back to the laptop.

"Well, it says here that he was under contract through Switchblade Productions." Eli spoke as he sifted through the latest website he had found. "Based out of New York City."

"Right." Cal murmured, looking over Eli's shoulder. "Well that's a start, then."

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you to all who are reading this story. And special thanks to Tangledupandsideways for reviewing. Please feel free to let me know how you think I'm doing and what you think of the story! Your thoughts and words are what keep me going!**


	4. Track 3: Ghost Lies

_Switchblade Productions_

 _New York City, New York_

Before they had even turned onto Lafayette Street, it was already painfully clear which building they were searching for. Made obvious by the large crowd gathered around and outside of the plaza they slowly approached. The group a mixture of press, media and paparazzi...along with the adoring fans who mourned.

" _Geez-ah_..." This came a puffed breath as Cal gazed out the taxicab window. "A real media circus, yeah?"

"Been that way all week long..." The driver muttered disgruntledly as he attempted navigating the ensuing chaos surrounding building.

"Oh-yeah?" Cal mused passively as he kept his gaze through the window. "You don't say." He took in the dark, almost macabre shrine that the young man's followers had erected along the sidewalk just outside of the otherwise pristine, almost sharp looking plaza.

The votive candles, photos, and black roses were undeniably creepy...

But they were also somehow endearing.

"Oi! Just let us out here, yeah?" Cal quipped as his gaze finally met the back of the driver's head. "We'll walk."

"Fine by me." The man muttered again before continuing underneath his breath. "As long as you pay."

"Yeah yeah." Cal retorted tersely before unceremoniously tossing some cash over the man's shoulder to land in his lap as he opened the door.

"Hey!" The driver snapped angrily towards Cal's blunt rudeness.

"Come on, Foster." Cal called into the cab with the dramatized tilt of his head. "Get a move on with it." But before the woman had gracefully exited the car he was already turned on his heels and off towards the crowd, leaving her to apologize to their driver.

"You could have been a little nicer to him, Cal." Gillian scolded as she finally caught up to the man in his stride.

"I _hate_ cabbies." Cal muttered, pulling up the collar of his jacket towards the impending winter and December's quick approach as he quickly stepped to the large crowd outside of the plaza. "Always so _bloody_ rude." And Gillian's jaw went slack, giving the pause of a step towards the irony of this statement before catching up to Cal again.

"Cal." Gillian chided harshly.

But the tone of her voice was laced in maternal concern and a level of worry as she tried to gain his attention.

"What?" He snapped, turning on his heels and halting his stride to face her. "Are you going to mother me this whole entire case?"

"I just..." She murmured, meeting his gaze as the two stared at each other while swarms of nameless faces passed them by, giving them no mind. "...I'm just a little worried about you, is all." The concern spoke volumes through her face as she looked at him.

"Yeah well." Cal's voice dropped a bit, softening towards her genuine warmth and care for him. "I'm fine." He gave the comical arch of his brows and wave of his hands with these words. "All puppies and kittens over here, yeah?" This came followed with a witty, forced grin. "But if you're feeling that way about it you can find someone else to mother when we get back to the office." Cal quipped. "Bet Loker'd just _love_ that. Eat it right up." Though his words came playful and almost sardonically mocking, his eyes remained somber as he held her worried gaze. "In the mean time. While we're here. We have a job to do, yeah?" And he turned as he said this, leaving her little room to further question or rebut his mental state over this case.

Suicide.

The one that always seemed to become personal for him.

Whether he wanted it to or not.

Making his way through the crowd, Cal worked not to brush up against all of the people mashed together like sardines. Unsuccessfully. But he _did_ try.

Sort of.

"Pardon me. Coming through." He raised his voice a bit to be heard, becoming a touch pushy as he made his way through the people...Gillian trailing behind in his wake.

And as he parted the seemingly endless sea of faces to the front entrance of the building he took stalk of the attire of the recently deceased artist's followers.

Fashion that seemed to run a bit deeper than a mere display of grieving for the loss of their idol.

It was black.

Somber.

Gothic.

Rebellious and anarchistic.

And just a bit morbid for his personal taste.

"Bloody hell." He muttered under his breath. "They still celebrating Halloween around here?"

"Cal." Gillian warned in a chiding voice as he felt the palm of her hand against his back to push him forward to the interior of the plaza before he had the chance to draw any more attention to their presence.

And the inside was filled with even more bodies.

Which Cal hadn't actually thought possible. Until now.

But these people were different. Cleaner. More socially presentable. Professional to a fault as they filled the large front entrance like clones.

The press.

"Thank you all for being here, today. With us." The soft feminine voice that drew the attention of the audience oozed confidence and strength.

The decisiveness of a corporate leader.

One unafraid in the line of fire.

And the woman was as beautiful as she was commanding.

Cal watched the young woman in her mid to late twenties behind the podium and microphone with the small group of people around and just behind her. Taking in her voluptuous figure as it pushed itself from her classic dress suit. Her stick straight dark auburn tresses came tastefully painted and streaked with subtle hues of deep purple. Framing her angular features in the almost voraciously aggressive a-line bob it had been cropped into. And full, luscious lips attractively pursed as green eyes stared the press down through chic black frames.

"When the music industry is faced with such an unexpected tragedy." Her words came paced, but never faltered or wavered from that strength held with her emerald gaze. "How do we even begin to make sense of such a senseless act?" This woman hit all of the right euphemisms to describe what had just happened without so much as missing a beat as she spoke through the microphone. "And this loss. For us. Is no different." With this, where was the raising of hands as the woman gave a determinant bob of the head to a reporter representing 'The Rolling Stones.'

"So what exactly is going to happen with the concerts and venues already set up and sold out?"

"December's Child and Switchblade Productions are fully committed to honoring our fan-base." The woman's soft voice carried through the speaker system as her words were recorded and immortalized. "Which is why..." She paced herself through the flashes and faces as she spoke. "For now...we will be refunding all translations to future venues until we are able to fully feel and reconcile ourselves with this great loss." And this fateful decision to postpone the band's activities gained the disparaging protest of some of the devoted fans outside.

But the silent majority seemed to be at peace with the studio's choice.

Through the woman's statement, the buzzing sounds, boos of dissent, and lights swirling around him...something else entirely seemed to gain Cal's interest.

 _Someone_ else.

The man standing directly to the left of this woman.

Coming near the same stature as the woman at the podium, he stood out next to the rebellious, ragtag group of fans he now found himself surrounded by. Having dressed himself in a beautifully tailored suit, the black fitted vest wrapped itself around his slender waist as the sleeves of his white dress shirt came casually rolled to just below the elbows. This gave him a slightly more personable look that was set in the cold, intoxicating flames of a vibrant, electric blue tie. He completely owned this air of sophistication and class that echoed and complemented the beauty of the woman at the podium. A dark, suave appearance with tantalizingly mussed raven black hair and a gaze veiled through fashionable, translucent yellow designer sunglasses.

And as he leaned himself in to discreetly whisper something in the woman's ear as her gaze flitted down and to the side, it became clear to Cal that _he_ was the dominant personality.

With the raising of more hands for answers, the woman turned her attention to the microphone again.

"Again." She spoke with that same soft, feminine authority. "We at Switchblade Productions, and the members of December's Child, along with all of their family and friends would like to extend our deepest thanks to you all." Her full, scrumptious lips moved with the social grace of these words. "At this time, no further questions will be taken." This caused a few disgruntled words and moans from the press as she continued. "But we will be more than happy to address any other questions in smaller forums at a later time when we've all been given a moment to properly grieve." Her authoritative, vibrant gaze came as decisive as her words as she ended the studio's public statement. "Thank you."

And with this, the media was now openly ignored and left with their many unanswered questions as the small, well dressed group quietly disbanded from the spotlight.

"Oi." Cal lightly nudged his partner as his gaze remained on the small group. "We better catch em before they scatter like bloody cockroaches, yeah?"

As the two quickly caught up with group, Gillian called out the name of the one they had come to see. To talk to. In order to stop her and gain an audience with her.

"Christy Ann?" She called to the woman who had just finished conducting the eloquent public statement to the press.

The woman who now blatantly ignored the call of her own name.

"Christy Ann Mitchell?" Gillian called again.

And to her astonished surprise, it was the _man_ who slowed his pace and gave a glance back over his shoulder. This, in turn, caused the woman at his side to stop as well, mirroring his movements as they stood side by side.

"Are you looking for me?" His voice came strangely smooth to Gillian's interest in him as he turned now to fully face her, his veiled gaze staring her down through the haze of yellow tinted glasses.

Gillian's bemused gaze flitted from the man's face to the woman's, back to the man's as she held her tongue. Not quite sure what to make of this situation. Bafflement that was undoubtedly written along her face as the man gave the small twitch of a smirk.

"Kristean Mitchell." He pronounced this name fluidly, _exactly_ as she had called out. "Music producer." This title came murmured through that velvet voice of his as she gave the quirk of her head. "I know." The man, in his early thirties, chuckled lightly to himself in amusement as he continued. "Most people come looking for a bitch." He said this tactless word with the sweetest smile. "But they get me instead." His piercing veiled gaze and hypnotic voice came through a breathtaking grin. "Surprise."

"My apologies." Gillian murmured lightly as she extended her hand to him in introduction. "Doctor Gillian Foster."

"Doctor?" He asked curiously as he took her hand in a cordial shake.

"Psychologist." She responded politely to the question as the smile shaping the man's features faltered just a bit.

"Ah." He murmured lowly as his gaze discreetly lingered down along her body before quickly returning to her face. " _That_ kind of doctor."

"Oi!" This came hollered out from directly behind Gillian to gain the man's gaze and attention. "I'm a doctor too!" Cal retorted in a comically sardonic tone with an even cheekier grin to the man as he peeked over Gillian's shoulder. "Just saying."

"And _you_ are?" The man question in a less amused tone towards Cal's antics.

"Doctor Cal Lightman. Of The Lightman Group." He turned his forced grin from the man towards his partner who seemed just as unamused before looking to the man again. "Perhaps you've heard of me, yeah?"

"Can't say that I have." The man drawled in disinterest as the well-spoken woman at his side now remained silent.

"A damn shame, that is." Cal quipped has he brushed past Gillian to take the man's hand in a firm, masculine handshake.

"So what exactly is it that _you_ do, Doctor..." The man paused, as if he were far too important to have even remembered Cal's name.

But Cal could fix that.

"Cal." He continued to shake the man's hand for longer than was conventionally acceptable with the dramatized tilt of his head before finally releasing his hand. "Lightman."

"So...what exactly is it that you do, _Cal_." The man asked again, the informal use of Cal's first name coming almost blatantly condescending as the two held each other's gaze.

Cal twisting his head to stare the man down.

The man, in turn, returning the stare with an almost frighteningly unwavering gaze.

"Oh, you know." Cal prattled with the tilt of his head as they stared each other down. "I poke about a bit." He held the man's veiled gaze locked with his own as he spoke. "Try to catch people with their nickers around their ankles, so to speak." He waggled his eyebrows to the man as Gillian interjected to clarify their work.

"Well..." Gillian murmured as the man's gaze continued to linger unnervingly on Cal with an almost predatory intent. "What we do is more...delicate than that." She murmured as Cal gave a forced smile to the man. "We're a consulting firm that is sometimes privately contracted to investigate cases that are... _questionable_."

"Really..." The man murmured coolly. "Questionable..?" He gave the small quirk of his brow as he continued to stare Cal down almost intimidatingly.

"Oh yeah." Cal quipped with another cheeky smile. "Like when it seem someone's lying. And _that_ one." He pointed almost dramatically to the woman who had given the public statement. " _Right_ there." His gaze narrowed in on her slightly surprised expression. " _She_ told a _whopper_ of a lie!"

"Excuse me?" She questioned with the furrow of her brows and purse of those scrumptious looking lips.

" _'When the music industry is faced with such an unexpected tragedy.'_?!" Cal scoffed as the woman's scowl only deepened towards having her words thrown in her face. "Like bloody hell!" He quipped. "To you, this so-called 'tragedy' was anything _but_ unexpected." The tone of his voice raised slightly with intonation.

"As the band's manager, I'm directly responsible for their public image." She gave this rebuttal to his accusation through pursed lips. "It's called P.R."

"P.R.?" Cal questioned with the dramatized tilt of his head. "What is that? Spreading Poppycock and Rubbish?"

"Public Relations." She deadpanned with an unamused expression. "Think what you want...but I was doing my job."

"Yeah you were." Cal conceded with the side-bob of his head. "And a bloody good one, at that." He then turned his gaze accusingly to the man next to her.

"And _you_!" Cal now pointed his finger to the young man, almost directly in his face. " _You_ were just _laughing_ your _ass_ off! The _whole_ time she was talking, yeah?!" Yet the man's expression remained impassive to this shocking accusation.

"Well I don't remember doing that." He quipped casually with only the briefest smirk of a smile.

"See!" Cal retorted. "There you go again, yeah?!" He now glared at the man through pinched brows. "Thinking this is all so bloody funny."

"That's absolutely ludicrous." With out warning, it was the woman who now went on the attack in the man's defense, going so far as to infinitesimally move a slight half step forward towards Cal.

And the man?

He just smiled at this.

"Oi!" Cal snapped back towards the woman's controlled outburst. "I know what you are, aye?" He eyed the woman as she gazed at him through her chic, sheer lenses. "You're his little attack dog, you are."

"What?" The woman blinked back in surprise at this.

"Oh?" Cal gave the raise of his brow. "A little more than that, are we?" He asked. "You're insulted." This came bluntly stated as his penetrating gave moved from the woman, over his shoulder to Gillian. "I insulted her." He muttered out with a small, cheeky grin to his partner before continuing as his eyes moved to the woman's face again. "So then... You two are meeting up _after_ hours for some extra curricular activities?" He asked with that same knowing smile. "Hanging the sock on the old knob, aye?" This came followed with the insinuating waggle of his brows before he gave the curious tilt of his head. "No?" His brows furrowed as he gazed deeper into her eyes, the woman's face speaking volumes to him without consent. "Oh..." This came a knowing purr as the cheeky smile returned. " _During_ business hours, then?" He grinned as he once again turned to Gillian. "Well _that's_ a bit naughty, yeah?"

Gillian merely bit her lip to quell the chastisement of Cal's behavior as she cast her gaze to the floor. And Cal simply continued with his antics in the face of her silence.

"But you know..." Cal murmured, a level of seriousness slowly creeping into the conversation as he leaned a little bit closer to her. "...these interoffice romances, yeah?" His gaze swiftly shifted between the two as the woman held his stare. "They _never_ work out, love." He eyed her as he spoke, choosing to now openly ignore the man standing right next to her. "And _this_ guy?" Cal intimated the man without so much as looking at him as he held her emerald gaze captivated. "He's bad news, aye. But then..." He paused, looking into her eyes with the small furrow of his brows. "...a smart girl like you already knows that."

"I think we're done here."

"For now." Cal nodded in agreement, seemingly happy with the chaos he had just caused. "But I'm going to be around, yeah? Poking about." He gave the tilt of his head. "A brokenhearted girl just lost the boy she loves." These words came raw with the weight of their seriousness. "And she deserves answers." And Cal didn't miss the fleeting expression of mild anger towards this statement.

From the man.

"Fine." Kristean Mitchell murmured lowly through the seductive siren's song of his voice. "Feel free to make an appointment to come and see me." This came through an air of cordial pomp. "I'll answer any questions you have."

"Great!" Cal trilled happily to this open invitation as he rocked on the balls of his feet. "Love to!"

"Not _you_." This came harshly snapped from the man's perfect lips with the faintest scowl towards Cal's antics before looking to Gillian with the twitch of a smile. " _You_." And before either of them could form a rebuttal or disagree to these terms, the man turned his back to Cal and began to leave in the direction he hand been going earlier.

"Oi!" Cal hollered to his back. "Was it something I said?" He asked caustically before looking to Gillian. "Cause I thought I was rather bloody charming." This came with the forced smile as she rolled her eyes to him before the man's smooth velvet voice manifested a sharp, strained call.

"Shawn." He called over his shoulder to the woman who hadn't quite left yet as Cal's expression came a wash of impassively.

"Go on, girl." Cal gave a small chin thrust to direct her to the man. "Master's calling you, aye?" And with the perturbed scowl of her gorgeous face she too turned to leave.

With the man.

"We should be leaving too." This came a gentle voice in his ear as he gave a small nod to Gillian's suggestion, watching them leave together.

"Yeah." He hummed in agreement. "Guess we'll be making that appointment after all, then."

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you again for all of the support this story has received so far (most especially to those reviews I cannot respond to personally, like Starbuck and those who follow and favorite me and/or this story). I'm deeply humbled, and so glad to find myself a part of this fandom.**

 **This chapter contains more of my original characters. Kristean Mitchell. And Shawn (Evans). Please respect...but enjoy them thoroughly. I know I do!**

 **In closing, I'd like to say that this story is being increasingly inspired by music from Bring Me The Horizon. Granted, I have not listened to ALL of their songs, but there are more than a few that have been my muse lately.**

 **Music is life, people.**


	5. Track 4: Ghost Secrets

_Lightman Group Headquarters_

 _Washington, DC_

 _Monday, November 13th 2017_

Cal found himself casually strolling down the halls of his 'castle', so to speak. The slow stalk of a proud lion...roaming the plains of his territory. His home away from home. A confident gate that stalled to a curious stop as he gave notice to the stranger standing alone in the lobby several feet away, and still unaware of his presence.

And as the young man of his mid twenties stood silent, gazing at the collection of photographs displayed on the wall, Cal watched him. His warm hazel gaze slightly glazed over as something truly haunting seemed to lie beneath their depths.

This man...

Cal could see right away that he was every _inch_ an overgrown man-child with the way he dressed himself in flamboyantly rebellious attire. Leather straps. Piercings. And visible tattoos. An only child, Cal mused silently to himself as he stared at him. The product of a misspent youth and overly lenient single mother. Though he stood five foot eleven, one would never really be able to tell with the way he had chosen to wear the thickest combat boots he could get his hands on.

If asked, Cal imagined that the man would just spout off something about current fashion trends. But Cal sensed that _this_ guy had an unfathomably immature petty streak. And this childish, self-absorbed, ego-centric personality was never more prominently displayed than in the man's hair.

Honestly...Cal found it hard _not_ to stare at its overwhelming magnificence.

To say the man loved his hair would be a gross understatement, Cal thought. Dark brown with the slightest hints of red and blond, it came just past the shoulders. Long enough for the man to have tied it up into a slightly messy bun. As Cal understood it, an edgy new trend with the young men these days. Though one might think that this look would throw the man's masculinity into question, Cal assumed that the man had _more_ than enough self confidence to pull it off. And he bet the women just _loved_ it.

Almost as much as the man himself did...

Cal gave a small smile to this amusing thought before sauntering out of the shadows and stepping up next to the man.

The two stood side by side, gazing at the photos as they remained silent in each other's presence. A silence that was comfortable enough, until Cal decided to open his mouth.

"Hello there." Cal announced himself though the thick, distinct accent he possessed. "Like what you see?" He asked casually to the man as they looked over the pictures

Faces of various celebrities and public figures decorating the wall. Posed with an array of expressions.

"Not really." The man confessed. "They're kind of creepy." And Cal chuckled to this, causing the corner of the young man's lip to lift in a smile.

"Oh yeah?" He asked, the two continuing to contemplate the photographs.

"Mmhm." The young man nodded, gaze forward.

"Want to see something _really_ creepy, then?" Cal asked.

"Like what?" The man answered, only mildly curious towards Cal's offer.

"If you move this way and that, yeah? Real slow, like." Cal began, slowly moving behind the man's line of sight to step to the other side of him as he spoke. "The eyes..." He murmured. "They just sort of...seem to _follow_ you, aye?" And Cal's attempt at humor was rewarded with a sharply snorted chortle of a laugh.

A laugh that was quickly squashed and snuffed out.

"So..." Cal murmured as the two fell into another bout of silence. "You here to see someone?"

"Yeah." The man murmured with the slight bob of his head. "Some guy named Cal Lightman."

"Oh yeah?" Cal's eyebrows raised at this, but he remained silent to his true identity.

Instead choosing to observe the man naturally, and completely unaware.

"Mmhm." The young man nodded again, his attention still focused along the pictures.

"Did you make an appointment?" Cal asked, wondering if he might be able to covertly figure out who this stranger was without giving his own identity away in the process.

"No." The mystery man shook his head with the small tousle of his loose bun. "But I'm hoping I'll be able to talk to him anyway." He answered candidly with a far off look in his eyes.

"Why's that?" Cal asked with the tilt of his head, looking to the young man's profile as he gazed at the photos. "You have something important to tell him, or something?" And he watched as the young man bit on his lower lip with the furrow of his pierced brow.

The unconscious action of one with secrets.

Secrets he didn't care to share with just anyone.

"Well..." The man began lowly, still avoiding Cal's stare for the pictures as he ruminated over the question Cal had just asked him. "Someone I know met him at a conference once." He spoke cryptically as Cal watched him choose his words carefully. "And they seemed to think that he was willing to help them out."

"Help them out with what?" Cal asked with the curious furrow of his brow and tilt of his head. "Out with it then, yeah?" He prompted as a small huffed sigh pushed through the young man's nose.

"I'd really like to just talk to him about this, if that's alright with you..." The man murmured quietly.

"And you think he'd want to talk to someone like _you_ , do you?" Cal quipped, intentionally baiting the man into dropping his guard.

"What is _that_ suppose to mean?" The man furrowed his brows as he finally turned his head, looking Cal directly in the eye for the first time since beginning this conversation.

And his face was a mixture of anger laced in overwhelming sadness.

The man was simply _drowning_ in it.

"Oh...you know." Cal said flippantly, continued with his antics as the two held each other's gaze.

"No." The man muttered lowly. "I _don't_."

"He's a very busy man, yeah. Catching people in the act and all, aye?" Cal gave the young man a pointed look. "So why would a man like _that_ want to talk to the likes of you?" Cal asked bluntly, causing the man to openly glare at him.

"And what in the hell do _you_ think you know about me?!" His voice raised slightly in indignation and outrage.

"Oh me?" Cal gave the raise of his brows to the question. "Well...um...lets see." He held the man's petulant stare with his soul exposing gaze. "An only child, yeah?" This came more of a definitive statement than a question. "Of a single mum too, aye?" He continued with his powers of perception as he watched the young man's expression slowly begin to change. "And she just _loves_ you, yeah?" Cal stated as he watched the briefest flecks of adoration washed over the young man's face. "Just _showers_ you with it." He gave a small smile to the genuine expression the man unintentionally gave up.

Love for his mother.

"But..." Cal continued his exploration of this strange young man who remained stunned in silent awe. "...something's got you down, aye?" Those warm hazel eyes dropped to the floor with this, telling Cal that he was on the right track. "Something happened, aye?" He asked, his voice softening a bit as he leaned in a little to lower the man's defenses with the lowering of his voice. "Did someone die?" And those eyes literally flew to his face with awe and a level of raw pain so agonizing that Cal _felt_ the man's anguish. "Was it your mum?" He asked, looking into the young man's face for the answers he was searching for, though the man didn't need to say a word.

"No..." Cal murmured against the man's silence. "Not your mum, then." He said as his eyes darted along the man's face. "But..." His brows furrowed as he moved just a little closer to the man. "It _was_ someone close to you, aye?" He continued lowly. "Someone who meant a lot to you." And the man couldn't even nod his validation to this before Cal continued. "So when did they die?" Cal asked bluntly. "Months ago?" He asked as his brows knit together in this search for answers. "Weeks ago?" And his eyebrows arched with what he saw in the man's hazel eyes. "Bloody hell." He exclaimed. "Only days ago, then."

And the man released a gasped sigh. Like letting go of an enormous weight as lashes fluttered under the threat of unshed tears.

"So what happened?" Cal asked. "An accident?" His expression fell with what he saw in the young man's eyes. " _Not_ an accident, then?"

"My friend killed himself." The man blurted out with the quiver of his lip, his brows furrowed in awe towards what Cal had managed to uncover without a single word from him.

"And I think I remember the girl who asked for my help." Cal admitted somberly, finally giving himself away.

"Shit." This came a choked sob as the man came moved to the verge of tears with what he had just now experienced first hand.

"Cal Lightman." He extended his hand to introduce himself as the man discreetly brushed his eyes before taking Cal's hand.

"Gabe." The man murmured, his demeanor seeming somehow lighter with his secret now exposed and found out. "Gabe LaGrange."

"And you were his mate, yeah?" Cal asked, and the man nodded to this question.

"Yeah." Gabe murmured. "I'm with the band." He stated, holding Cal's gaze and seeming far more at ease. "Drummer."

"And the two of you were close?" Cal asked again, and Gabe just responded with a shrug.

"Yeah." He murmured lightly. "As close as anyone _could_ be with Aden." His hazel gaze drifted to the floor as he spoke. "...he didn't let a lot of people in..."

"A bit closed off, was he?" And the man simply gave another shrug to this statement.

"Most of the time, yeah." Gabe conceded to this fact. "But he had his moments."

"His girlfriend seemed to think the same, aye?" And the young man gave a faint smile to this.

"You know..." He murmured pensively, seemingly deep in thought. "...when Kate told me that she had gone to see your lecture, I couldn't really believe what she had told me about what you do here."

"Impressed?" Cal asked with a grin as the young man gave the bob of his head.

"How did you _know_ all of that?" Gabe gave the furrow of his pierced brow in perplexed awe. "About me." He murmured slowly. "...my mom..?" His warm hazel gaze narrowed in curiosity. "...and..?" This whispered breath was laced in a level of anguish as he fell silent against the next words lingering on the tip of his tongue.

"Aden?" Cal spoke this name that seemed to inflict physical pain as the man mutely nodded. "Well..." He began. "You told me."

"No I didn't." The young man countered through a baffled shake of the head. "I didn't say a word."

"It was all over your face, yeah?" This came with dramatic flare and a wave of the hand to the photos.

"And you could really _see_ all of that?" The young man asked.

"Yup." Cal conceded with the side-bob of his head as the two gazed upon the photographs once again. "Makes me a bit of an arsehole, though." He admitted as the young man gave another snorted laugh with the shake of his head.

"Nah." Gabe chuckled. "It makes you a total badass."

"Really?"

"Yeah..." Gabe nodded. "Really." And the two fell into a brief moment of comfortable silence, staring at the pictures before Gabe spoke again.

"So..." He began lowly. "...if you're able to watch someone, you'd be able to tell what's going on? Like...in their head?" This came asked with a level of disbelieving awe.

"Yeah, sort of." Cal's voice came a bit breezy as he spoke. "In a matter of speaking." He yielded to this young man's rudimentary understanding of a painstakingly developed science.

"So if I were able to get you guys some footage of Aden..." He murmured with the furrow of his brows. "You'd be able to find out what happened?"

"I don't know." Cal admitted with the soft jerk of his head, much to the young man's open disappointment. "But I'm willing to give it a go if you are, yeah?" And he watched the the young man consider this for a moment.

He seemed to hesitate. Recoiling himself somewhat, as if second guessing himself before slowly handing Cal the small hand-held recording devise he had been holding in oversized hands. His eyes falling to the floor as Cal took the camcorder. And Cal knew that _whatever_ had been caught on that camera, the young man believed it could just as easily damn his friend as uncover the truth.

"Aden always loved his privacy, you know?" He murmured quietly as he held his hazel gaze transfixed on the floor. "Craved it, really." This came a soft whisper through his lips. "We all sort of do, at times." Gabe mused to himself with an almost pensive expression. "But I think Aden wanted it more than most, you know?" His gaze finally lifted from the floor as he looked Cal in the eye.

"What I have on there..." Gabe spoke lowly through a slightly husky tone. "It's not going to be what you see on the television." His words came grave and laced in seriousness. " _This_ is who my friend _really_ was." He said, holding Cal's penetrating gaze. "So I need your word that you're going to treat him with the respect and dignity he deserves. And that _none_ of this goes to the public media." The last word came a breathy whisper of a plea. "Please..." And Cal nodded in full agreement in order to put the young man at ease.

"Oh course." Cal said. "But if anonymity was so important to your friend..." He questioned with the small twitch of his head. "...then why give this to me?" And with this, Gabe's expression came a wash of determination.

"Because..." He held Cal's stare with a resolute gaze. "...Kate's not the only one who wants to know what happened."

* * *

 **A/N: Greetings again! So introduced in this chapter is another original character of mine, Gabriel LaGrange. I had wanted to introduce him at the end of the last chapter. But...Gabe is Gabe, and needed a chapter all to himself, apparently! Though a bit sad now...I hope you guys will end up enjoying his antics! Because shenanigans is his middle name!**


	6. Track 5: Ghost Memories

**A/N: Okay, so my apologies for the length of this chapter. Honestly, I tried to narrow down the content without ruining the feel of this particular segment. And I hope that this chapter isn't too awkward. I did try my best to create a certain feel, so please let me know how it turned out!**

 **As a side note, and fare warning, there is some strong language and subject matter in this chapter.**

* * *

The small, almost box-shaped contraption came roughly set along Eli's desk, causing him to flinch from the computer screen before his head snapped to the side to take in his boss' amused expression.

"Hey!" Eli scowled as Cal flashed him a cheeky grin.

"Surprised, Loker?" He asked in a comically witty tone with the raise of his brows. "Thought I'd bring you another gift, aye?"

"A camcorder?" Eli asked with the curious quirk of his brow to the device before his eyes cast themselves to Cal. "Home videos?" And Cal shrugged, causing Eli to continue his guessing game with a mischievous smirk. "Is it porn?" He asked lowly, his voice growing husky in it's longing and desire. "Tell me it's porn." This demand came thick with desperation.

"I don't know." Cal retorted. "Haven't watched the bloody thing."

"Why not?" Eli gave the baffled shake of his head through a squinted gaze of perplexed disappointment.

"Cause I thought you'd want first crack at it, yeah?" Cal murmured cryptically with the little side smirk of a smile that played along the corner of his lip. "Being a big fan of the band, an' all." And at this, Eli's eyes grew large and saucer-like with uncontainable excitement as he looked from the recording device back to Cal.

"No." This came dubious, yet more than a little overly dramatic as Eli held Cal's gaze questioningly.

"Yup." Cal confirmed the question written along Eli's face as he continued. "Got that from our dead guy's band mate. Thinks it might help our case."

"So it's _rock star_ porn." Eli's voice came almost indecent with the way it fluctuated in arousal. "Yes." This came a long, drawn out hiss of exhilaration.

"Whoa." Ria's voice manifested just beyond the door as she stopped at the threshold, taking stalk of the aftermath of this bizarre scene. "What's with Loker?" She asked as she cautiously drifted to Cal's side, the two of them just starting at Eli as he, in turn, stared at the camcorder like a ravenous animal.

"I just got rock star porn." Eli repeated excitedly as Ria's jaw fell slack.

"Wait." She gave the cant of her head. "... _what_..?!" Her voice raised an octave in confusion as Eli just gave an almost feral grin to the recording device.

"Another one of our dead guy's little friends came by." Cal responded casually. "Gave us some raw footage of our guy that he thinks might be helpful in our case, yeah?" He brought her up to speed as the two continued to witness Eli's swift mental descent into debauchery.

"So..." Ria's words came low and slowly drawn out in pensive consideration to this. "...on this recorder...is..?"

"Rock star porn." Eli uttered again, eyes glazed as he stared at the camcorder.

"Well, we don't really know for sure what's on this thing, aye?" Cal conceded to the veiled truth of this gift. "But that's what we're going to find out. So...kid gloves and all, yeah?" He murmured a little more seriously, not missing the way Eli still salivated over the treasure trove he had just been handed.

On a silver platter, no less.

...the rare, once-in-a-lifetime glimpse into the life of an icon...

"Oi! Loker!" Cal snapped. "Did you hear me?!"

"Yeah." Eli's lashes fluttered against the daze he'd been in as his eyes finally met Cal's stern gaze. "I heard you." He gave the small bob of his head. "Kid gloves. Got it."

"...right..." Cal muttered, his dubious expression lingering along Eli's face. "Torres," The call of her name immediately drew Ria's attention as her beautiful exotic features sculpted themselves in trepidation to his next fateful words. "give him a hand, yeah?" This caused Rita to give a slight double take between the two as Cal continued. "Two sets of eyes are always better than one, right?" And without further word he turned on his heels to exit the room, leaving the two alone with little room to argue his decision.

And in the silence, time seemed to slow as the two shared a moment together.

A glance.

A look of understanding.

A singular spark of united, harmonious accord.

"Popcorn?" Eli asked with the raise of a single brow.

"Popcorn." Ria nodded in agreement with the faintest grin of a smile.

And off she went in search of sustenance for this latest endeavor as Eli set to work on linking the electronic device to his laptop in order to access and log the video content. As Ria returned with the vital provisions, she pulled up a chair next to Eli who was still in the process of connecting the devices to view the footage.

"So..." Ria murmured. "...you've listened to these guys before, right?" She asked through a level of apprehension laced in curiosity.

"Not fanatically." Eli said. "But yeah." He admitted to this as a Ria's brows pinched together in slight dread towards what she had just gotten pushed into.

"So..." Her voice lowered in mild concern. "How bad do you think this is going to get?" She asked about the unknown that had been captured on this electronic device.

"Well, the guy sang about slitting his wrists." Eli mused darkly. "Oh, and he _actually_ killed himself." He emphasized with the raise of his brows as he avoided Ria's gaze. "So, safe to say they weren't exactly a 'boy band'."

"Great." Ria lowly groaned underneath her breath.

"Welcome to the dark side, Torres." Eli quipped with the faintest smirk of a smile to her apprehensiveness over the potential horrors this devise held.

"Yeah well..." She muttered. "At least they have popcorn."

"And porn." Eli added with a grin as Ria rolled her eyes, wordlessly lacing her lips with the snack of choice for this private viewing.

With those fateful words, and the eloquent stroke of the keyboard, Eli accessed the contents of the camcorder onto his laptop from the devices birth. And the first segment of footage began to play as the laptop's screen fizzled to life.

The camera was blurred and fuzzy, pointed to the floor as the person behind it worked to put it into focus. Merely a disembodied voice of bundled excitement behind the lens.

 **'Yes!'** The voice hissed out exuberantly. **'This is gonna be awesome!'** The last word of this exclamation came out a high squeak through a clearly masculine voice before the view of the floor swirled to reveal the face behind the camera.

"This is surreal." Eli whispered, staring at his laptop in disbelief at the face of the renowned musician he saw on the screen.

 **'Hey, kiddies! Guess who?!'** The man behind the screen chirped with the husky undertone of his voice and crawling wave of his eyebrows. **'Gabe LaGrange, here.'** He introduced himself as his lips curled into the apples of his cheeks in a steamy smile. **'But to all the _fine_ ladies and _hot_ mamas out there...you can call me Sweet Baby Gabe.' **He purred to the camera as Ria just groaned.

"Please." Ria snorted to the rock star's antics. "This guy's a chump."

"Are you _kidding_?!" Eli countered through a squinted gaze and the shake of his head, his eyes never once leaving the screen as he spoke to Ria. "This guy's my _hero_." And Ria just couldn't help the next groan that came produced from her throat.

 **'I'd like to officially welcome all you fine, sexy, beautiful people...'** This came purred in equal parts smooth and erotically husky before he gave a sexy whispered hiss into the camera. **'...but only the _really_ pretty people...' **Ria gave a snort as Eli just grinned. **'...to The Gabe LaGrange Show! Otherwise known as The Cirque du Freaks!'** His voice came overly dramatic and deeply husky as he gave the waggle of his pierced tongue to the camera before grinning. **'Alright, folks.'** His smile curled into his cheeks with the spark of his warm hazel gaze and his showmanship. **'Lets go find our first victim.'** With that, the camera went black.

And the two watching the computer screen were held captivated until the device was resuscitated back to life. Like being given breath as the camcorder sizzled and opened up to the next image placed upon the screen of the laptop. And Eli made note that the time stamp on the screen was the same day, hours later into the evening. Yet the camera was focused on a new face, this time.

The face of the young man who had ended up jumping to his death.

Appearing to be in an apartment...possibly his own, judging by the striking skyline just beyond the sliding door in the background of the footage. He sat himself opposites the cameraman in what looked like a vast open kitchen. Head down, hunched over the counter and shirtless to expose and bare the artistically elaborate and decorative tattoos along his flesh. One elbow propped along the bar, palm to his temple as long, slender fingers seemed to almost imperceptibly pull and tug along the electric blue bangs they were tangled in. The other hand busied with a pen and paper as he feverishly wrote along the blank spaces, ignoring his friend behind the camcorder.

A hint his friend was simply refusing to take as the young man's name came obnoxiously repeated by the familiar disembodied voice of the device's owner.

 **'Aden...Aden...Aden...'** The voice repeated, completely unflappable to the young man's cold shoulder as the chant of his name continued. **'Aden...Aden...Aden...'** Before the invisible voice of his friend decided to change tactics. **'Prick...Prick...Prick...'** The young man's friend continued with his comically turrets-like antics. **'Dick...Dick...Dick...'** Before escalating to a whole new level in the face of being ignored. **'Fucker...Fucker...Fucker...Fucker...'** And with this, deep rich chocolate brown eyes bordering on black lifted from the pages of the counter-top.

Irritated.

Hostile.

Angry.

Lip slightly curled and forced eye-contact through thick lashes that seemed haphazardly smudged with the faint remnants of performance eyeliner that hadn't quite been washed away yet.

But this action of a silent look only served to cause an explosion of laughter from behind the camera.

 **'What..?'** And thus, the game of dialogue had begun with the way he had now engaged and took notice of the obnoxious voice.

 **'Hi.'** This came more of a giggle than a greeting as the young man's tragic gaze drifted back to the paper he had been writing on, resuming his work and former hunched posture.

 **'What do you want, Gabe?'** This question came low and sharp through lips held in a taut line.

But the sound of his voice when he spoke wasn't what Eli had expected. Not from the voice and face of the band. It was lower. Softer. Like a low mumble. Slow and lacking in clarity and substance.

And fragile.

It sounded fragile.

 **'Well...'** The voice behind the camera began, laughter interlaced within the tone and words as his friend spoke. **'...as an artist and all, I decided to go out and find me some subject matter.'** This came playful as the young man continued to scribble on the page. **'And you're a subject that matters.'** With this, the fingers that had been laced in his rebellious, inky black hair erected a long slender middle finger tipped in black nail polish as the young man flipped off his friend.

 **'Real cute, buddy.'** The voice chuckled. **'Love you too, prick.'** And this earned the faintest twitch at the corner of the young man's lip.

 **'Isn't that camera a gift from your mom?'** The young man deadpanned this question as another chuckle came from behind the camcorder.

 **'Yeah.'** This came a low, husky concession. **'Cause she loves me.'** The camera swirled around in a dizzy spin to focus on the face of the narrator as the young man's friend grinned to the device. **'Don'tchya, Ma?'** And the camera's view shifted as the man placed his lips along the lens before backing the device away again with another grin. **'Love ya, Ma.'** And the camera spun again back to the subject of interest. **'Say hi to my mom, Aden.'** The voice prompted.

 **'Hi Dezy.'** This came a monotonous drawl.

 **'Thank her for the I-pod she send you, Aden.'** The voice prompted again.

 **'Thank you, Dezy.'** He responded again as he continued to fill the page on the bar.

 **'So whatchya working on, there?'** His friend asked with curiosity. **'That a new song?'**

 **'Mmhm.'**

 **'Can I see?'**

Instead of offering a verbal response to the camera, the young man merely shrugged with hunched shoulders as he placed the pen along the counter-top. Righting himself from the table-top, he wordlessly pushed the piece of paper along its surface. The camera came lowered to rest on the counter-top as the young man's friend could be heard picking up the piece of paper to read its contents.

And a moment of silence fell upon the moment as the device recorded the young man wordlessly watching his friend read his latest work.

 **'Damn, dude...'** This came lowly murmured through that familiar husky tone to the side of the camera as the young man was captured retrieving the bottled drink that had been just out of view of the device until now. **'This reads like a fucking suicide note.'** And another pause of silence settled upon the moment as the young man laced his lips along the bottle to take a drink, his friend continuing to read out of view of the camera.

 **'...too much..?'** The young man asked, gaze neither looking towards the camera or his friend as he asked this before the disembodied voice quickly responded.

 **'Nah, man.'** This came a swift refute. **'It's completely badass.'** His friend said. **'Fuckin' poetic, really.'** The disembodied voice complemented as the paper came slid back to the young man. **'So...what are you going to do with it?'**

The young man stared at the piece of paper through a curtain of electric blue bangs. Took another taste of poison. Sitting in silent contemplation to this question before a small sigh passed through his pierced nose as he gave his answer.

 **'I'm gonna fuckin' light it on fire.'**

And the camera went black again before it was brought back to life, nearly half an hour later. To a fresh view of the apartment. What seemed to be the living room with a closer view of the city skyline in the background. The young man was now sitting along a sofa, leaned over a coffee table meticulously dissecting the piece of paper. And his friend's disembodied voice could be heard prattling on behind the camera.

 **'So...how much do you think that song would have gone for?'** The disembodied voice sounded touched and caressed with the faintest hint of alcohol as the man continued butcher the paper with a razor blade and almost surgical precision.

 **'I dunno...'** This came a low mumble. **'Forty-five thousand, maybe?'** The young man took a ventured guess of the profit of his work as he set the blade down to begin lining each little square of paper with something that looked like tobacco.

And in the background, his friend began to giggle and laugh.

 **'Dude!'** His friend's voice bubbled and blossomed in amusement as he watched from behind the camera. **'Forty five thousand dollar song, people.'** These words fluctuated with the emotions of the man behind the recording device. **'And he's using it to roll dope.'**

And the camera went black again. Turned off before the sizzled sound of it being turned back on was immediately followed by the familiar sound of the young man's friend in the midst of a giggle fit. And as the camera engaged in an automatic focus of the lens, the young man came into view.

His expression was hazy and glazed behind a thin screen of smoke. Pale and blankly passive as his friend continued to laugh. At him? With him? It wasn't quite clear. But what _was_ obvious, was that the situation had gone horribly awry. Something was... _amiss,_ so to speak. Because, though the young man was still seated on the sofa where he had cut apart his own words, he now appeared completely disrobed. Cross-legged on the couch with only a pillow in his lap to cover his shame. And towards his friend's riotous laughter, the young man held an expression of indifference as he took a long drag from the questionable looking blunt poised gracefully between his long slender fingers.

 **'Hi, Aden.'** The voice behind the camera laughed.

 **'Hi, Gabe.'** He mumbled through the haze of smoke around him.

 **'How ya doin', Aden?'** The way the man had sat himself on the sofa, gaze cast down and far off, made him appear far younger than his already youthful appearance despite his dark aura.

 **'Fine.'** The young man mumbled this one word response in an almost lifelessly monotonous tone.

 **'So-uh...'** His friend behind the camera could be heard, his words slow and amused in their playfulness. **'...you wanna tell us what happened to your pants there, buddy?'** This question came through stifled snorted laughter towards the hilariously awkward elephant in the room.

The young man's nakedness.

 **'I set em on fire.'** This came through a quiet mumble laced in smoke as a sharp snort of laughter ensued over this.

 **'Then what did you do, Aden?'** His friend asked as dark, thick black lashes fluttered over this question and the slow, steady haze he found himself in.

 **'Then I threw them over my balcony.'** This came blunt through a quietly mumbled murmur that was swallowed up by his friend's stifled laughter.

 **'Screaming.'** The voice directly behind the camera added through obvious amusement.

 **'...yeah...'**

 **'And uh...what exactly were you screaming as you tossed the fireball overboard?'** The disembodied voice asked as the young man gave a small shrug, eyes downcast as the thin rolled up piece of kindled paper gracefully poised between his long slender fingers came momentarily forgotten.

 **'I dunno.'**

 **'Yeah, I didn't know either.'** His friend chuckled. **'When I asked you, you screamed something else.'**

 **'...yeah...'**

 **'And what did you scream then?'** The voice prompted, wavering along that ever present laughter and amusement towards this increasingly outrageous act of rebellion against the offending attire.

 **'Die, motherfucker, die.'** The young man numbly repeated what he had supposedly screamed off camera.

 **'Now...was that at the pants, or me, dude?'** His friend asked, the tone of his voice painfully on the verge hysterics over the young man's antics.

 **'The pants.'** This came in mumbled clarification to the question before the next was asked.

 **'Ah, okay. And then what did you wanna to do to them _after_ that?'**

 **'Make a chalkout line where they landed.'** The young man admitted with only the faintest twitch from the corner of his lip along his otherwise placid expression as his friend chuckled.

 **'But what did I tell you?'**

 **'That I couldn't do that.'** The young man mumbled with the smallest furrow of his thin, dark brows in disappointment.

 **'And I only said that cause I love you.'** His friend quickly countered off screen. **'You know that, right?'**

 **'...yeah...'**

 **'I mean...you _could_ have...' **The disembodied voice conceded. **'...if you'd just put some pants back on.'** His friend added with the briefest pause before continuing. **'But you didn't wanna to do that, did you buddy?'**

 **'No.'**

 **'Why not, Aden?'** The voice asked through chuckled laughter, already seeming to know the answer.

 **'Cause pants are fucking stupid.'** This came blunt as the young man finally laced his lips with the rolled paper between his black-tipped fingers.

 **'Yeah, they are, buddy.'** His friend laughed in agreement. **'But you need em to go outside.'**

And the angle of the camera swirled away from the young man who had just numbly recounted the outlandish revolt against his own clothing as the device's lens focused of the face behind the camcorder.

 **'And _that's_ why they say doing drugs is very... _very_ bad.' **His friend's expression was shaped in an most dismal attempt at seriousness as he spoke. **'Cause you'll either lose your shit...'** He chuckled to the device, biting his lower lip to quell further laughter. **'...or just lose your pants!'** With that, the young man's friend just couldn't help the fit of laughter he fell into as he gasped for air.

 **'Dude! Dude! Dude!'** His voice manifested through the giggle fit. **'Gimmie another hit! Sharing is caring, man!'** And the camera captured the handing off of this piece offering as the man's friend took a long, slow, satisfied drag of this shared offering. **'...you always get the best shit, man...'** He murmured through a grin laced in a lazy curl of smoke, his hazel gaze cast away from the camera towards the young man he spoke to off screen. **'Complements of your buddy, Javier?'** This exotic name came purred through a sexy faux accent and waggled crawl of his eyebrows as the voice off screen deadpanned.

 **'His name's Dane.'**

 **'Whoops!'** Large hazel eyes locked with the camera with a mock expression of surprise at the outing of the young man's supplier. **'Sorry, Dane!'**

With that, the view of the footage changed as the camera was set on the coffee table. The young man's friend took a seat next to him on the couch, handing back what was left of the questionable substance as thin lips laced themselves around it in another drag. Black tipped fingers holding it poised as his friend's voice sounded just a bit further through the small distance between them and the device.

 **'So...buddy...'** His friend murmured. **'...can I crash here tonight?'** He asked as the young man's gaze stayed downcast through the haze of smoke around him.

 **'Yeah, sure.'** This nod of concession caused a giddy squeal of delight to sprout from his friend.

 **'Thanks, buddy!'** This came playfully sweet and gooey as the young man's friend leaned in to give him a hilariously goofy kiss on the hollow of his pallid cheek...that dark, rich chocolate gaze remaining away from the camera's all seeing eye. **'You're my hero.'** Brief silence met this show of adoration before the man's friend devoured it with another string of giggled laughter. **'Alright, alright. Dude...now we have to have an epic sign-off.'**

 **'...fine...'**

 **'Awesome!'** This came squealed out to the young man's monotonous agreement. **'Aright, lets do this then!'** He draped his arm over the young man's shoulder as the two faced the camera. **'So, this is Aden.'** The young man's friend pointed to him with the strategical use of his middle finger.

 **'...And Gabe...'** This came mumbled through chalked pale lips and a downcast gaze veiled in a haze of smoke as the young man played along with his friend's antics.

 **'Signing off.'** His friend finished in this ping-pong of voices. **'Say goodnight, Aden.'** This came coached.

 **'Goodnight, Aden.'** The young man parroted.

And the smile along his friend's lips gave the feline curl into his cheeks.

 **'Later, bitches!'**

As the narrator of this show leaned towards the coffee table, the screen went back once more.

 _"That_..." Ria's voice manifested in the aftermath of this silence.

"Was _weird_." Eli finished as the two stared at the screen.

"And _not_ porn." Ria countered as Eli gave the smirk of a smile.

"Oh...but there's _so_ much more tape to go through." He grinned. "Hours and _hours_ of it." And Ria's eyes glazed over towards this fact as Eli simply continued. "And the night...is _so_ young."

But as the two settled themselves in for an evening of untold thrills...to live vicariously through the lives of these infamous characters...it wasn't long, maybe a few hours, before they both turned towards each other. Eyes large. Expressions shaped in mirrored shock.

"Get Lightman and Foster?" Ria asked as her brows furrowed to Eli.

"Yeah." He nodded in return. "Get Lightman and Foster."


	7. Track 6: Ghost Visions

**A/N: Again, fair warning. Some strong language is contained in this chapter.**

 **Also, apologies for any spelling or grammatical errors that I may have missed, as I do all of my own editing! Like a boss.**

 **And...again...thank you to all those who continue to show interest in this story by having favorited and followed it. And special thanks to those of you who have taken from your precious time to review and share your thoughts. It means a great deal to me!**

 **So without further ado, I hope you all enjoy this next chapter! And don't forget to review!**

* * *

" _Oi_! What's all the fuss?" This came hollered out as Eli heard his boss being noisily ushered towards the lab. "Bloody _hell_!" The man yelled. " _Stop pushing_!"

"Torres..." The softer, more delicate voice of Gillian could be heard following Cal's protest. "What's going on?" These words came laced in concern as they made their way to the room where Eli waited for them.

Waited...to show them what had only _just_ been discovered on the tapes.

Sifting through the bits and pieces of footage he had carefully logged, cuing up what he needed to show them, Eli swiveled in his chair away from the laptop screen in order to face the ones who had just crossed the threshold of the lab. His domain. His layer.

As the two entered into the lab, Ria close behind them, it was Cal that Eli saw first. And as their eyes locked on to one another, his name came out a harsh, strained question.

"Loker?!"

And again, it was the softer voice of Gillian that followed. Grave and weighed down with what she saw along Eli's face.

"You found something..." And Eli's gaze moved from Cal, to Gillian as he looked up at her from where he sat in his chair.

"Yeah." His voice sounded as grim as the expression shaping his features as he gave a small nod before looking to Cal once more.

"So the guy that gave this camcorder to you..." He began, his tone laced in seriousness as he held Cal's gaze. "You said that he had thought that this footage might help us in our investigation into the suicide?"

"He seemed to think so, yeah." Cal agreed with the furrow of his brows, searching Eli's face for the answers Eli wasn't yet sharing.

"Yeah, well..." Eli murmured lowly with the small lift of his brows as he held that soul exposing gaze. "...he wasn't wrong."

"We didn't even get through _half_ of the footage on that thing yet." Ria picked up where Eli had begun. "But most of it so far's just been a bunch of partying." She stated bluntly before continuing.

"Parties _before_ their concerts." This fell monotonously from her lips.

"Parties _after_ their concerts." Eli added.

" _After_ -parties after their parties." She countered flatly.

"Clubbing." This came yet another addition to the ever growing list.

"Not to mention all of the exhibitions they had in between tours to promote their albums." Ria drawled slowly. "I mean...these guys seemed to make it a point to play _twice_ as hard as they worked." She muttered before she was hastily cut off with a heated voice.

"This _is_ going somewhere, yeah?" Cal quipped through slight irritation at how this was being drawn out.

"Of course." Ria said with a small nod.

"Well then..." Cal gave a disgruntled mutter. "Get on with it."

"Right." Eli gave the nod of his head before spinning around in his chair to face the laptop on his desk. "So...during one of their parties, we found this." He said as fingertips began their work along the keyboard to strike up the footage. "This was at a party a little over a month before our guy killed himself. Take a look." And with that, and the click of the button, Eli started the segment of footage he had separated and pulled up to show them.

And through the speakers of the laptop came a frightening symphony of sound. The blaring music of the club. The shrill screams and laughter of people swirling around and interlacing with the synthesized beat. And above all that was the disembodied voice directly behind the camera.

 **'Dude! Did you** ** _see_ ****Shawn tonight?!'** This question came asked to someone off camera as the young man's friend strategically filmed the band's manager.

The woman who had given the public statement of the production studio after the young man's death.

 **'Looking fierce, Shawn!'** He screamed out this lascivious cat call over the cacophony of noise as the woman narrowed her hostile emerald gaze on the offending device with a look of disdain.

 **'Don't be such an ass.'** This came off camera, a low and hollow scolding from an empty sounding voice.

The familiar voice of the now deceased young man.

 **'Don't be such a prick.'** The disembodied voice of the narrator countered through a jovial tone of playfulness.

 **'Ass.'** The hollow, empty voice quipped in a teasing manner.

 **'Prick.'** The narrator laughed as the camera continued to film the attractive woman in the distance as she made her way to a man both Gillian and Cal recognizes.

One that they had already briefly encountered.

The band's producer. Kristean Mitchell.

 **'So...what do you think she's wearing underneath that tight little dress?'** The young man's friend asked, his voice thick and husky with lust as the young man could be heard responding quietly off camera.

 **'I don't know.'** The young man quipped flatly in a muffled tone. **'Why don't you ask Kris?'** He countered, the camera's view panned to his sullen profile. **'Bet he knows.'** This came faintly mumbled as he stared forward towards where it had just been pointed, chin resting propped on his hand.

Seeming so far off and weighed down by something so much bigger...so much darker...than himself.

 **'Ew.'** The disembodied voice behind the device came filled with disgust. **'That's just gross, dude.'**

 **'...yeah...'** The young man agreed monotonously.

 **'You really think she's sleeping with him?'** His friend asked.

 **'...don't you..?'** This came another deadpanned counter to his friend's question.

 **'Ew.'** This came overly dramatic before the camera went black.

And as it crackled and sparked back to life, the view was changed.

As was the subject matter.

 **'Hey, Kris.'** This greeting came long and comically drawn out as the young man's friend filmed his music producer's profile. **'How's it hangin'?'** He asked through a chuckled snort of laughter. **'A little to the left?'** The disembodied voice prattled through the plethora of noises and sounds. **'Say hi to the camera, Kris.'** And to this, the man simply lifted his hand and waggled his fingers to the camera, his profile offering up the alluringly sexy side smirk of a smile.

 **'Now...by day, Kris works as our producer.'** The voice behind the camera continued in open amusement. **'Aka, the whip that smacks us on the ass to make us work.'**

 **'Kinky.'** Kris could be heard faintly murmuring this with that ever-present smile as the voice snorted a chuckle.

 **'But what y'all** ** _don't_ ****know, is that our fearless leader here moonlights as a gay porn star.'** This jibe came with a deprecating snort of laughter at the man's expense as the disembodied voice continued. **'But I can't remember, dude.'** The voice continued on. **'What's your stage name?'** The narrator asked, that voice perpetually dancing around amused laughter. **'Is it Spike Steel?'** He laughed. **'Or is it...'** The voice dropped in a sultry, sexy tone. **'Cam Shaft?'** And this jest gained the full force of alarmingly riveting, exotic pale blue eyes and a passive expression.

 **'Why don't you ask your mom?'** The man intimated with the small quirk of his brow, the alluring smile beginning to form along his thin, perfect lips just a bit off in the way it now shaped his features.

 **'You wanna show us some of those mad moves, there, buddy?'** The voice snorted out as it continued to openly antagonize its subject.

 **'You want to see some moves?'** The producer's voice came faintly distant through the other noises, yet dark and melodic in challenge with the slight raise of his brow to the cameraman.

 **'Yeah, buddy.'** The voice laughed behind the camera.

With this challenge, the man's amused features shifted to a more blank, stoic expression. Though that pale gaze still lingered ominously on the one behind the recording device. The man remained completely silent before slowly raising his dominant fist. Wordlessly presenting his middle finger to the camera, the guy then wrapped his thin perfect lips around the digit. Dark lashes fluttered as he slowly inserted it into his own mouth in an absolutely disgustingly lewd gesture to the cameraman's taunting.

And a brief, fleeting expression of disgust flashed along Gillian's delicate, soft features. An expression echoed and reflected in the words of the narrator to this scene.

 **'Real nice, man.'** The voice behind the camera could be heard, closer to the device and less than amused as the man gave an alluring smile to the camcorder as it moved to back away and leave.

 **'Bye, Gabriel.'** This could be heard off camera in that strange, smooth tenor as the the narrator's voice came an unamused hiss to the device.

 **'Yeah. Later, ya sick fuck.'**

With that dismissal, the cameraman walked back to where he had been sitting with the young man. The two could be heard conversing through all of the other various sounds and noises. The music. Everything else happening around them as the angle now focused along the young man's lowly lit profile. And everyone in the lab circled around the laptop strained to hear as the two spoke to each other.

 **'Hey man.'** The owner of the device sounded less than amused after his encounter with the band's producer.

 **'...hi...'** This came an empty, hollow response.

 **'Hey...'** The disembodied voice of the young man's friend seemed tainted with a small level of concern towards this lifelessly apathetic greeting. **'...you okay..?'**

 **'Fine.'** This came a blunt, flat response to his friend's concern.

And there was something in the tone of his voice that caused Cal's brows to furrow as it effectively thwarted any further inquiry, and the young man slowly lifted himself from his seat.

 **'I'm getting another drink...'** This was muttered in his departure, preemptively silencing his friend's questioning as he walked away.

"Now...this is where things get really weird." Eli interjected as all watched the screen, waiting in anticipation. "Watch this."

As Eli spoke, the device continued to capture the young man's movements to the bar. And as he made his way towards the club's open bar, the young man passed by his music producer who was still sitting where the young man's friend had left him. With no audio to rely on, all they had available to them was pure, raw body language as the two brushed paths.

"See that?" Eli asked over his shoulder as the camcorder continued to record this brief encounter.

"Head down." Gillian murmured pensively with the furrow of her delicate brows. "Shoulders hunched." Her gaze remained captivated by the footage.

And again, as the young man retrieved his drink from the bar and had to pass by his producer once more.

"Pause it." Gillian said, her voice raising slightly towards what she now saw. "Cal?" Her voice wavered. "You see what I see?"

"Yeah." Cal nodded, his voice grim as his gaze narrowed along the paused scene. "They don't even so much as _look_ at each other, but it's there." He said. "Submissive posturing. And here." He stepped forward to point to the screen. "The slightest lift of the corner of the mouth." Cal muttered towards the music producer's expression. "That's enjoyment, that is." With this, Gillian moved closer as well, scrutinizing the footage further as she gave a small nod of agreement, her gaze lingering along the two on the screen.

"This is almost _textbook_ behavior..." Her voice drifted along these words as she spoke. "Of _victim_..." A delicate index finger pointed to indicate the young man. "...and _abuser_..." The finger drifted to point to the band's producer.

"And you caught this?" She asked, her brows furrowing as her gaze finally moved from the screen to Eli.

"Nope." Eli said. "Not right away, at least." He admitted. "Torres saw it first."

"Good girl." Cal spoke approvingly as Ria's dark gaze drifted towards the ground, the faintest twitch of a smile lifting her full lips. "No, no." This came chuckled to her reserved smile. "Go ahead. Be proud." He coaxed through a cheeky grin as hers began to grow in confidence. "You earned it."

"Yeah, well..." Eli grumbled seriously as he gazed over his shoulder towards the small group behind him. "Don't celebrate too soon. There's more to it." He murmured lowly before turning back to the screen. "The rest of the night goes down hill pretty quickly from this point." Eli said. "And it gets pretty ugly." This came gravely spoken in a grim tone. "Watch."

With these fateful words, Eli skipped ahead in the footage. Near its end. And the laptop cued the device to a new scene. A strange angle where the camcorder seemed to be resting along the table top. Capturing, as it did so, the young man's palled face some distance away. Unconventionally beautiful in this tragic state as he rested his head along the table's unforgiving surface. Dark, thick black lashes fluttered against unconsciousness as his friend's voice could be heard in an attempt to console him.

 **'Dude...you okay?'** The disembodied voice came laced in concern, muffled through the cacophony of other noises. **'You don't look so hot, there, buddy.'** This came grave and weighed down in worry over the young man's current state.

 **'Everything hurts...'** The young man's voice came barely audible through the distance of the device as thin dark brows furrowed with the weight of these words.

 **'What do you mean?'** The disembodied voice of his friend asked as the young man gave a shuddered breath through chalked lips. **'Do you need to go to a hospital?'**

 **'...no hospital...'** This came an empty muffled protest through furrowed brows.

 **'I'll just take you home, then.'** His friend countered soothingly, like speaking to a very young child.

 **'No.'** The young man grumbled a little more forcefully in objection.

 **'Do you want me to call Kate..?'** This came low and a bit softer, thick in hesitation as the young man gave a small, gasped moan.

 **'Don't call Kate.'**

As the camera captured the young man wavering along consciousness and lucidity, another disembodied voice manifested away from the devices view. Unseen, but eerily familiar in its smooth, lithe tenor.

 **'What's going on, here?'** The cool voice asked, gaining the attention of the young man's friend as he quickly answered.

 **'Nothing.'**

 **'Doesn't** ** _look_ ****like nothing...'** The low, alluringly seductive male voice of the band's producer quipped. **'It looks like a hot, steaming pile of shit.'** This heavy handed statement came blunt through that smooth tenor. **'He needs to go home.'** The producer murmured, indicating the young man slumped face down on the table.

 **'...I already tried...'** The young man's friend could be heard mumbling. **'...he doesn't want to leave...'**

 **'Then** ** _make_ ****him.'** This came low and authoritative in tone as the man stepped into the camera's view, only the lower potion of his form visible as his face remained veiled. **'You guys** ** _know_ ****it's bad for us when shit like this happens in public.'** And in the face of silence and lack of response, the man continued as his voice dropped in seriousness to the situation. **'So it's time for him to go.'**

With that, the man moved again. Lowering himself onto his haunches into the camera's view in order to come eye-level with the dazed young man. Raising his hand, the man stretched out and splayed thin fingers in order to brush away a strand of the young man's bangs, only to be met with a weak, feeble combative attempt as the young man tried to swat his hand away.

 **'...don't fuckin' touch me...'** This came a thready moan of mumbled protest as the young man continued to be openly combative in his delirious state.

Yet the man persisted in his strange offering of comfort and consolation, softly shushing the young man like a small, squirming animal despite the open protest.

 **'Dude, he said he doesn't want you doing that.'** But this protective echoed protest from the young man's friend merely gained the silent stare of pale blue eyes as the band's music producer looked up from where he was crouched.

 **'Come on...'** This came lowly murmured as he turned towards the young man again. **'I'll take you home.'** He made slow, methodical movements to begin helping the young man up from his slouched posture along the table.

But his actions were once again thwarted with another futile attempt from the young man to push him away.

 **'I don't** ** _want_ ****to fuckin' leave.'** This came an incoherent mumble with the deepening furrow of dark, thin brows.

 **'Dude...'** His friend could be heard interjecting to this. **'He doesn't want to go with you. Just let him stay there for a little while.'**

At this, the band's producer could be seen rising from his haunches, his face veiled and out of sight again as the camcorder captured his conversation with the young man's friend. Another member of the illustrious band.

 **'He** ** _can't_ ****stay here, and you** ** _know_ ****it.'** This came murmured lowly through the static and noise. **' _Look_ at him.' **The man whispered. **'I'm taking him home, and then I'll deal with cleaning up this fucking mess later.'** His words were dark and mildly challenging as his body could be seen drifting infinitesimally closer to the young man's friend. **'So I suggest you stay out of this, and let me fucking handle it.'** The authoritative weight of this statement left little room for argument or rebuttal.

 **'Okay, fine.'** The young man's friend agreed reluctantly, effectively stepping down as a buffer as the band's producer moved back to the table, crouching into the camera's view once more.

Taking a lowered stance next to the young man, making himself smaller and less intimidating like one encountering a small child, the producer gazed at the young man resting his head along the table. Pensively, for a moment, before his lips moved to speak. Communicating words that were too quietly uttered to be captured on the device. And the young man's lashes seemed to flutter imperceptibly towards what was being whispered to him. Pale, chalked lips came slightly parted to draw breath before the young man was assisted up from where he sat. As the young man's tall, lanky frame came supported, the height difference of several inches between him and his producer became clear. And as the two slowly stalked away together, the young man's producer could be heard talking to the few people they passed by along the way. His voice low, and laced with eerily dark intent.

 **'Time to go, Kid.'** He murmured. ' **Say goodbye...'**

 **'Shit.'** The disembodied voice of the young man's friend could be heard closer to the recording device. **'This isn't good.'**

With that the screen went black as the camera was turned off. And the lab was plunged into deafening silence.

"Oi..." Cal muttered lowly to Gillian as the two continued to blankly stare at what they had just seen. "You made that appointment at the recording studio, yeah?" And Gillian nodded wordlessly as lashes fluttered from a slight stupor.

"Yeah." She murmured softly with another small bob of her head before she turned to Cal. "Yeah, I did."

"Good." Cal said. "And now we have something to ask him about, yeah?"

"We?" She questioned, brows knitting together as she held Cal's penetrating gaze. "You're going to come with me?"

"Nah." Cal shook his head. "Wouldn't do us much good to do that." He admitted. "When the man said he wasn't keen on talking to me, he meant it." The small smirk of a smile lifted the corner of his lips as he spoke. "But he said he wanted to talk to you." He continued with a growing smile. "And I think you should take Torres along with you, yeah?"

"Wait..." Ria stuttered, blinking in surprise as she looked from Gillian to Cal. "What?!" This came a baffled protest from her lips.

"Actually..." Gillian looked to Ria thoughtfully in consideration to Cal's suggestion. "That might work." She murmured softly as she continued to regard Ria's surprised expression. "And if you're not coming with me, Cal, I could really use a second pair of eyes to gauge Mr. Mitchell's reactions when I ask him about this footage." And Cal nodded approvingly to Gillian's thinking before he turned that side smile in Ria's direction, along with his gaze.

"What do you say, love?" He asked the baffled young woman. "You want a go at it?" And a smile fluttered along Ria's full lips in exhilaration.

"Hell yeah."

"Aright then." Cal rocked on the balls of his feet as he smiled to his team. "Go get 'im, girls." And Gillian couldn't help the small smile that lifted the corner of her lips towards her partner's antics.

"Loker." Cal called out to Eli, gaining his attention as the two held each others gaze. "You think you can go through the rest of that on your own?" He asked.

"Absolutely." Eli nodded, undaunted in the face of this grueling task.

"And what are you going to do?" Gillian questioned with the small furrow of her delicate features as Cal's smile grew a bit cheeky and slightly smug.

"What I do best, love." He smiled. "I'll continue to poke about."


	8. Track 7: Ghost Whispers

**A/N: I'm not sure if I should apologize for the length of this chapter or not. But what I DO know is that I'm still so grateful to those of you who continue to show interest in this little project of mine. And I'm even more humbled by those of you who take such precious time in reading and letting me know what you think through your reviews. You guys are who keep me writing!**

 **And as a side note, oops, I did it again, so more mature language in this chapter. Fair warning.**

 **So without further ado, enjoy this next chapter and don't forget to review!**

* * *

 _Switchblade Productions_

 _New York City, New York_

 _Wednesday, November 15th, 2017_

"Whoa..." This came a low exclamation of wonderment as Ria took in the lavish elegance of the main lobby she had just entered.

Light.

Airy.

Large.

Impressive in is grandeur as her dark gaze drank in its extravagance.

"And I thought _our_ lobby was impressive..." She muttered as a soft, delicate lilt manifested from right next to her.

"I know." Gillian murmured, having been a bit taken herself the first time she had entered the plaza during the production studio's public statement to the press.

"Miss Foster..." This name came called above the faint buzz of other voices swirling around the lobby.

Gillian turned to the sound of her name as her gaze met the familiar face of the band's manager. The woman who had spoke at the podium during the press junket held after the young man's sudden death. Slender, delicate arms enfolded around her rib-cage, accentuating her narrow waist and ample chest that came sinfully pushed through her trendy suit jacket. A stylish number that flared around her voluptuous hips to dress a soft and curvaceous figure. An undeniably tantalizing feminine body that was sharply contrasted with her lean angular face and aggressive, dark A-line bob. Coming finished and framed in chic black rimmed glasses.

And Gillian's lips curved into a gentle smile to greet the woman as she began her approach. Ria silently trailing behind her.

"It's Gillian." This came softly spoken through the flutter of lashes and that cordial smile.

A smile that was, in turn, met with a small purse of the woman's own full bodied lips and slight furrow of her brows as her vibrant emerald gaze narrowed behind her designer frames in slight animosity. An expression Ria recognized right away as the woman held Gillian's gaze.

Anger...laced in contempt.

"Would you mind telling me why you're here, Miss Foster?" She asked, the tone of her voice terse with the formal use of Gillian's surname.

"We came to talk to Mr. Mitchell." Gillian answered, her voice calm as her demeanor exuded a sense of self confidence.

"Kris is extremely busy." This statement came curt as the woman maintained forced eye contact with Gillian.

"I understand that, Miss..?"

"Evans." The woman quipped with the offering of her surname.

"I understand that, Miss Evans." Gillian's voice remained calm and soft, yet assertive and confident as she spoke. "Which is why we scheduled this appointment with him in advance." With this, the woman gave a small huff of disapproval from her delicate nose.

"Fine." The woman countered Gillian's argument, staring the both of them down. "Follow me." With that, the woman turned on her stylish designer stiletto heels as she fell into a gracefully elegantly stride to lead the way without further discussion.

"What did you do to her..?" Ria whispered dubiously to Gillian as the three moved quietly through the lobby, curiously questioning the level of open hostility the woman had directed towards her.

"Nothing." Gillian murmured lightly back through an answered whisper and the sharp sound of the woman's stilettos against the unforgiving floor beneath her feet.

"You sure?" Ria asked in a low whisper. "She seems to really hate you."

"Not me." Gillian said as the faintest smile of amusement gently lifted the corners of her lips.

"...Lightman..?" Ria gave another whispered hiss with the small furrow of her brows as they continued to trail behind the woman.

"Cal was being Cal." Gillian answered this question as the small, soft smile played along her delicate lips.

"Let me guess..." Ria murmured. "He made another friend." And Gillian stifled a quiet chuckle.

"Mmhm."

"...nice..." Ria muttered lowly in response.

She could only imagine what her boss had done to offend this woman scorned. And as they continued to follow the woman out of the front lobby of the plaza and towards the elevator, Ria settled herself in for an awkward moment in a small, confined space. But as the metal doors parted and they wordlessly entered behind the woman leading them, Ria found the space larger than she had expected. A pleasant surprise that she welcomed as the doors closed and they were enveloped in the stifling silence that followed.

Save for the soul crushing music.

As they reached the requested floor and the doors parted, tall, slender stiletto heels clicked sharply along the unforgiving tile. And the two fell in time and rhythm to the woman's strut and sway of her provocatively curvaceous hips. Slender legs cinched at the thighs in a pencil skirt slowed their stride and finally stopped in front of an imposing, thick oak door that had been left slightly ajar.

But none of the grandeur of this impressive looking door was more imposing than the man himself. Sitting poised behind the desk of his office as Ria watched him through the slight gap. Elbow propped along the desk's surface, his gaze seemed far off as if he were somewhere else entirely. That was until he became aware of their presence lingering just outside of his office. The full weight of starling pale blue eyes falling upon them as he narrowed his gaze towards this disturbance. Meeting a set of emerald eyes, he wordlessly signaled to the woman with the raise of a hand as she halted their approach into the inner sanctum of his office.

"We'll wait here." The woman commanded quietly over her shoulder as Ria watched the man's gaze drift towards the surface of his desk again, taking comfort in the knowledge that he would not be disturbed further.

His voice manifesting a muffled, cold, low murmur in that same seductive tone that Ria had heard on the video footage. Seeming as if to speak to no one at all as he continued a conversation with some unseen person.

"You _can't_ be fucking serious. Are you really _this_ fucking stupid? _Really_?"

 _These_...were the first deplorable, unholy words Ria was struck with as they were made to wait just outside the threshold of of this man's lavish penthouse office.

And it startled her.

Not _simply_ due to the openly blatant and offensive use of profanity. No. These were words she had heard uttered before. Towards others. And worse yet, directed at her personally. So it wasn't merely these harsh, brutal words that caught her off guard and caused her to tense.

No.

It was how frighteningly _calm_ and unphased the man had been as he spoke them.

This...more than anything else...was what caused Ria's deep and heavy unease as she continued to listen to the man's one-sided conversation.

"That's what being under contract _means_ , Hunter." This came ominously murmured from the man's thin, perfect lips. "You are _not_ a free agent." He uttered lowly. "You do _not_ go around peddling your _shit_ to anyone you feel like just because you _think_ you can get a better deal." He spat into the air. "Your ass is owned by Switchblade Productions, and you make music for _me_." The man said, his tone dropping dangerously low as these words parted and left his lips.

Lips that were now held in a dangerously taut line of disapproval as he listened to the disembodied voice of his invisible victim on the other end of the line.

The lull in this conversation allowed the man to fish out a single cigarette from the pack that had been resting on the elaborate mahogany desk he now sat behind. A slow, methodical sigh parted thin lips as a hand cupped long, thin, fingers over the cigarette as he brazenly lit it inside his office. Taking a slow drag before exhaling a breath of smoke, he held the cigarette delicately poised between his fingers. Elbow propped along the desk, gaze narrowed in a slight squint as he reengaged the one sided conversation.

"I _wrote_ your contract, Hunter. Of _course_ I fucking read it." This came along the breath of a pause. "Did _you_..?" He deadpanned seriously through another drag of his cigarette and unnervingly calm passivity. "Or is it that you really _are_ just too _fucking_ _stupid_ to understand this concept?" These words produced an almost aggressively feral hiss as the man's upper lip gave over to the infinitesimal quiver of a snarl.

"Yeah, well... You're a complete fucking _moron_ if you think this little stunt of yours will pay off." This came marked in a faint, sardonic snort of smoke and amused dismay with shake of his head. "Fine." He lilted dangerously low as Ria and Gillian were made to wait with the band's manager, the woman acting as a buffer between him and them as he conducted his business. " _Go_ to Langland Records." The man taunted, giving a casual, veiled glance to the expensive looking watch adorning his wrist. "They're office closes in thirty minutes." A small pause fell along this whispered threat. "Lets see who can get to them faster." Thin lips formed into the small twitch of a smirk. "I guarantee that when I reach them first..." That smile began to spread as it languidly played its way along his devastatingly handsome features. "...and I will..." The full force of this promise lingered along lips now twisted into an almost malicious, predatory smile. "...that any sort of deal that you made with them behind my back will go up in fucking flames."

Snuffing out what was left of his cigarette, the man continued to openly ignore the close proximity of their presence hovering just outside his office for the company of the disembodied voice before the slightest lull came over the one sided, hostile conversation. And unusually startling, pale blue eyes slowly lifted through thick black lashes in their direction.

"Hold on..." This came lowly murmured through thin lips, followed by the small nod of the man's head to the woman acting as a buffer.

He wordlessly coaxed them in through the threshold with the almost gracefully inviting gesture of his hand as the band's manager finally relinquished her post at the threshold of his door. Allowing them to enter as the man sweetly beckoned both women into the inner sanctum of his intimidatingly impressive office.

The room itself was grand with its open space and large bay windows that looked onto the city skyline. Though it held little to no personal touches of the man who conducted his business here. The walls seemed to rise to the heavens in a beige that amplified and warmed the dying light of the setting sun that came through the windows. And the office was only made more pretentiously flamboyant with the style of its interior decoration.

The furnishings were oversized and decadent, lending to the man's ego and taste. The desk, set near the large bay windows overlooking the city, was made of beautiful hard wood mahogany. Imposing in its presence, it automatically sent a message of insignificance to all those who dared enter the space.

...just like the man who now sat behind it...

"Hold this for me." Gillian whispered to Ria, passing her a small notepad and pen as they quietly moved through this man's domain. "You'll know what it's for." And Ria gave a discreet bob of the head, accepting the tools without question as the man reengaged this conversation with his invisible victim.

"I have another appointment." He said, his tone authoritative and laced in dispassion. "But don't think for a moment that this is over. Not by a long shot." The man murmured coldly, his tone cutting and ruthless as he spoke. "Your ass better be in the studio tomorrow morning." His voice dropped dangerously. "Because you and I are going to have a conversation you will _not_ enjoy." With this the man gently pressed the hands free devise poised in his ear, ending the conversation as a lull of silence filled the office.

Removing the delicate piece from his ear, the man set it along the surface of his desk next to the expensive looking cell phone it was wirelessly linked to. That unnerving gaze lifting to meet the two women as his features shifted to a slightly kinder expression.

Though, behind those eyes, there still lingered something slightly off. Ominous. And far colder than mere indifference.

"Sorry about that." He offered up this apology in that melodic tenor as he remained perched in his leather thrown. "I had a matter that needed dealing with." He smiled. "But I'm all yours now." And Gillian gave the small cant of her head.

"Are all of your meetings usually that volatile?" She asked curiously as Ria remained silent beside her.

And the man gave the faint smirk of a smug smile, followed by a passive shrug.

"In this line of work, the people that come to me..." He murmured lightly through that alluringly hypnotic voice. "...wanting me to sign them on to our production studio..." The man held Gillian's gaze with a confident, commanding stare. "Most of them don't realize that this is, in fact, a job." This came through the faint smirk of a smile. "Some days I get the pleasure of reminding them of that fact." He said. "Giving them a dose of reality in a language they can understand." His striking features smoothed over into a more neutral expression as he continued. "And that reality is sometimes harsh, and very ugly."

"I see..." Gillian replied softly.

"Please." The man beckoned with the gesture of his hand. "Sit." He murmured smoothly. "I've been expecting you." And with this, Gillian gave a small nod as she took her place along one of the lush sofas near the desk, Ria wordlessly following suit.

"Gillian." The man murmured her name with a faint smile of genuine pleasure, the current civility of his tone a far cry from that of his last conversation. "It's good to see you again."

And...he meant this.

Ria was certain of it as she sat next to Gillian, silently gauging his voice with the openness of his body language and facial expressions. But it was more than a little alarming to her how, with this simple greeting, the man had managed to blur any sense of boundaries. Yet, without skipping a beat, she watched as Gillian effortlessly navigated this peaceable violation with a level of grace and poise that Ria had always admired.

"Thank you for making the time to meet with us." She murmured with a warm yet professional smile.

"Of course." The man replied. "I said that if you made an appointment I'd be more than happy to answer your questions."

"I appreciate that, Mr. Mitchell."

"Please." The man smiled. "Call me Kris." His startling, exotic pale blue gaze finally drifted towards Ria. "And _you_ are?"

"This is Ria Torres." Gillian quickly answered for her, keeping Ria silent as she spoke. "She's here to take notes for me on this meeting of ours so I can give you my full attention." She said with a warm, soft smile, effectively veiling Ria's talents and purpose from this man before they began their investigation. "If that's okay with you."

Suddenly Ria understood her boss' prompting to take the pad and pen, giving herself an effective cover to enable her to covertly read the man's responses to Gillian without him noticing. Though, the man initially regarded Ria with dubious scrutiny, as if he didn't fully trust that Gillian was telling him the truth about her. But he finally offered the faint twitch of a smile towards the idea of having Gillian's undivided attention.

"Of course." He said. "Anything that I can do to help." With this, the man made graceful moves to retrieve another cigarette before settling into this meeting, his gaze lifting once again to Gillian. "Do you mind?" He asked cordially as Gillian indicated with the shake of her head that this was okay.

As the man lit his cigarette, and a satisfied curl of smoke passed through parted lips, the small tug of a playful smile crept itself along his features.

"I've been told that I'm a bit...orally fixated." This suggestive intimation came through a light chortle of amusement as Gillian's features remained calm and unmoved by this jest. "My apologies." He murmured through that mesmeric side smile and riveting exotic gaze. "I thought being a psychologist you'd find that funny." With the drag of his cigarette, the man's pale gaze narrowed on Gillian through the faint smoke screen as he continued. "So, you wanted to talk to me about what happened?"

"Yes." Gillian gave the faint bob of her head through the flutter of lashes. "We had some questions to ask you in regards to the case we're investigating." She said, and the man gave a wordless nod of consent to be questioned.

"So, were you and Aden close?" Gillian asked, the intimate use of the deceased young man's first name causing that oceanic gaze to narrow slightly.

"McCaffery?" The man immediately distanced himself with the use of the deceased's surname. "Not really." He admitted. "He never let anyone get close to him." This came with a small, passive shrug. "You could say that he was a bit reclusive. Kept to himself." A small sigh dispelled what was left of the veil of smoke as perfectly groomed brows furrowed in mild curiosity. "Why?"

Gillian gave brief pause as Ria witnessed her deliberate on how best to approach answering this question. If they shared too much, they jeopardized effecting the man's willingness to openly talk to them. But being evasive could have the same devastating outcome.

They had to tread carefully, and play their cards just so, if they hoped to discover what this man might have to hide in regards to the young man's suicide.

Because Ria had discovered something long ago. Before ever being discovered as a natural reader by the Lightman Group, working as a baggage screener at the airport. Before the great Cal Lightman himself, the worlds leading expert in deception, had said that she was well on her way to becoming one herself. Before her life had been turned on its head, Ria had discovered something crucial through painful first-hand experience.

That _everyone_ had _something_ to hide.

...everyone...

"Mr. Mitchell." The soft lilt of Gillian's voice drew Ria out of her thoughts before a swift recant followed. "Kris." She delicately applied the intimate use of his first name, which seemed to please the man somewhat. "We've been made aware that during a party you attended before Aden's death, that the two of you were seen leaving together."

And the man's expression slowly shifted, dropping from that amiable countenance to something just a bit darker. Colder. His pale blue eyes riveting as they threatened to draw her into the very depths of their frigid waters. Something about him seeming to change imperceptibly right in front of them as he held Gillian's gaze. Taking a pensive drag of his cigarette, he regarded her through the veil of smoke before finally speaking. His voice low and melodic in its tone.

"So I see you've been talking to Gabriel, then." This came a bold statement as he held Gillian's gaze with an almost predatory stare.

"Someone _did_ approach the Lightman Group wanting to held assist in our investigation, yes." Gillian admitted, holding the man's alarming gaze.

"Hm..." The man hummed passively.

A pregnant pause settled upon the moment as a lazy curl of smoke crawled from his thin perfect lips before it was sucked between his teeth with the sharp breath he took as he leaned back in his chair.

"He showed you that stupid camcorder of his, didn't he."

Again.

Not a question.

"I know what party you're talking about." He admitted, his expression passively cool and without emotion as he spoke with only the faintest furrow of his brows. "But that was almost two months ago." He said. "Why do you want to know about that?" The man asked with the imperceptible cant of his head through a thin veil of smoke. "I thought you wanted to talk about McCaffery killing himself." And Ria took note of how impersonal, cold and removed the man seemed towards such a devastating event.

"I do." Gillian assured him with the small bob of her head as she continued. "That night, he seemed to be particularly...impaired." She broached the topic delicately, only to be met with the man's tactless response.

"Yeah." He agreed with her, his words as blunt as they were cold. "He was drunk _and_ high...on, _something_ ." The man casually stated through another drag of his cigarette, as if this were no big deal to him.

"Was that normal for him?" Gillian asked curiously.

"It was a party." The man offered with a small shrug. "He was a rock star."

"So your agency condones that kind of behavior?" She questioned with the furrow of her brows as the man gave a small shake of the head.

"No." He admitted. "But it comes with the territory."

"Did you notice if anything out of the ordinary seemed to be bothering him that night?" Her inquiry continued as the faintest smirk of a smile twitched along otherwise expressionless features.

"McCaffery wasn't the type to _tell_ people _things_." He said through a small exhale of smoke. "And he certainly wouldn't have said anything to me if something was bothering him." The man murmured lowly with the small raise of his brow. "Like I said... He was pretty reclusive and kept to himself. So I really wouldn't know."

"I see." Gillian whispered softly, pacing herself with the briefest of pauses before the next few questions.

"Just before the two of you were seen leaving the establishment together, it seemed that he didn't want to go with you." And the man openly scoffed at this.

"If you had actually _watched_ the footage from that night, you'd notice that he didn't want to _go_ with _anyone_."

"But you took him home anyway." Gillian countered, her tone warm and soft as she spoke. "Do you make a habit of being that close with all of the people under contract with you?"

"No. Not usually." The man admitted coolly. "But I guess I made an exception for the kid."

"Why?" Gillian asked with the perplexed furrow of her delicate brows.

"We had history." He said with another casual shrug of his shoulders, snuffing out what was left of his cigarette in a funeral of smoke and ash before the full weight of his gaze landed on Gillian. "I was the one who discovered him."

"Do you normally talent scout as a producer?" Gillian asked.

"Not as a rule, no." He admitted. "But this was a few years ago, and back then I did more of that work myself." The man said as he held Gillian's gaze with that same odd, off-putting stare of his as he gave the almost smug smirk of a smile. "I'm of the mind that if you want something done right, you do it yourself."

"So that's how the two of you met, then." She murmured lightly.

"Yeah." He said with the small nod of his head. "A little over four years ago. When the kid was seventeen." The man murmured, his tone falling pensive with his gaze as he recounted this. "I was bar hopping with Shawn and ended up running into him at an open mic." This came along a faint smile to the memory. "He impressed me." A light chuckle followed with the raise of his brows. "And believe me, that's not easy to do." He said. "So I gave him my card." The man gave another small chuckle of laughter to himself. "But he didn't exactly want to work for me, at first." He admitted as that small little smile grew just a bit.

"He didn't?" Gillian asked curiously with the small tilt of her head.

"No." The man said with that strange little smile of his. "But I find that I can be quite... _convincing_...when it comes to getting things I want." And Ria couldn't help how unnerved this statement made her feel as she saw how the man looked at Gillian.

"Wasn't it difficult to sign him on as a minor?" Gillian effortlessly directed the line of questioning as she boldly held the man's exotic pale gaze.

"Not at all." The man murmured lightly.

"Didn't his guardians need to give consent for him to be signed to your label?" Gillian asked, her expression and tone slightly perplexed towards the man's response.

"He was his own guardian at the time." The man stated casually.

"Emancipated?" Delicate brows furrowed to this as the man nodded.

"Mmhm."

"So that's why you made exceptions for him?" She asked. "Because you felt a level of responsibility for him?" And at this, the man loosed a low chortle of attractive laughter that shook his torso and shoulders.

"I don't want you to get the wrong impression of me, Gillian." He laughed.

"And that impression would be?" Gillian countered with the curious raise of a delicate brow.

"That I'm a nice person." He said with an amused smile towards the very thought of this idea. "Because I'm not." Gillian gave the cant of her head as he continued. "You don't get as far as I have in this industry by being _nice_." He said, his tone soured some. "I don't play well with others." He murmured lowly with a predatory stare towards Gillian. "I have high expectations, and my work methods are brutal. But they get results." His expression came passive as he continued. "And _that_ makes me an insufferable bastard." He openly admitted to this as his frigid, oceanic gaze narrowed. "But _being_ an insufferable bastard doesn't _make_ me responsible for the kid jumping." This came blunt, like a backhand to the face as the faintest of smiles lifted the corner of his lip. "He did that himself."

"It's odd." Gillian's voice manifested faintly as she held the man's captivating gaze.

"What?" He asked, just as lowly in an echoed breath of a whisper.

"When talking about those who've committed suicide..." Gillian explained, her tone soft and gaze pensive as she spoke. "...those who knew them tend to avoid using terms, or even referring to, the actual suicide act in favor of more pleasant euphemisms when describing what happened." She said as her voice wavered along this revelation. "But you don't." And the man seemed to understand the point she was attempting to make as he held her calm, confident gaze, offering the casual shrug of his shoulders.

"I'm for calling a spade a spade." The man stated bluntly before the light rapping of a knock came to disturb the moment.

"Kris..." This came a faint murmur through full, luscious lips at the band's manager, Shawn Evans hovered on the threshold of his office. "Your next appointment is here." And the man offered her an alluringly seductive smile in response.

"Thanks, Shawn." He murmured lowly through that smile of his. "I'll be done here in a minute." And with that, and the nod of her head, the woman dismissed herself once more.

"Thank you for your time." Gillian murmured cordially as she slowly stood to dismiss herself, Ria following suit as the man raised from his seat to see them both out.

"Our production studio is hosing a social gathering at Ceilo next week." He said as the name of the night club caught Ria's attention.

She'd heard good things about the establishment, and it was well known for showcasing big name DJs.

"We'll be announcing the temporary replacement vocalist for December's Child, along with a new set of tour dates for the band." This came so startlingly off-putting in the way the man had announced it so casually that Gillian was momentarily taken aback.

"So soon?" She asked with the furrow of her brows.

"Business never stops. And neither do I." He said with the faintest making of a seductive side smile. "The world just keeps spinning round like a record."

"I see." Gillian murmured, her gaze cast to the floor as she thought over this.

"You should come." He gave this invitation, regaining her attention. " _Both_ of you." His riveting gaze drifted towards Ria as he continued, his eyes flitting back to Gillian. "There might be a few people there you'll be interested in talking to. For your investigation." He offered as Gillian gave the small bob of her head.

"Thank you." With that, the two dismissed themselves as the man watched from his pretentious lair.

"So what do you think?" Gillian asked as they made their way to the elevator.

Stepping into the confines of the metal box as the doors slid closed, Ria gave herself over to a thready breath. The meeting, and the man himself, had been more than a little overwhelming. But as she ruminated on Gillian's question, and what she had been able to glean from the man's demeanor and words, she chose hers carefully.

"For the most part, he seemed to be pretty honest with you." She admitted as Gillian gave a small nod of agreement. "He was telling the truth when he said that our guy didn't really talk to anybody." And again, Gillian nodded in agreement. "But..." Ria murmured as the elevator continued its descent to the main lobby of the production studio. "I'm pretty sure he was lying to you when he said he didn't know if anything was bothering our guy the night of the party."

"Yeah." Gillian murmured with the small bob of her head. "He was." And the doors of the elevator parted as they made their way towards the exit of the plaza.

"So what now?" Ria asked as she kept pace with her boss, and Gillian's delicate lips curved into a soft, playful smile.

"Now..." She murmured with a slight gleam in her eye. "...we have a party to get ready for."


	9. Track 8: Ghost Melodies

**A/N: Thank you to all who have read and reviewed this story so far! You guys are amazing!**

 **Also, thank you to those of you who are currently following this story!**

 **Kylie Winchester**

 **Tangledupandsideways**

 **livvyspencerxo**

 **neweldi**

 **And those of you who have added this story to your list of favorites!**

 **Kylie Winchester**

 **livvyspencerxo**

 **You guys are the best! So without further ado, enjoy this next installment! And don't forget to review!**

* * *

 _Lightman Group Headquarters_

 _Washington, DC_

"Back from New York already?" Cal asked with the raise of a brow behind his desk as Gillian slowly entered the room. "I thought you two would have been gone longer, aye? ...taken your time..." He said as his gaze continued to take in every minute expression of her soft feminine features, his words coming slowed with purpose and intimation.

A small, playful little smile shaping her soft delicate features. And the mystique of this smile both bothered and intrigued him.

"Go on a bit of a shopping spree?" He murmured through the quirk of a side smile of his own. This friendly questioning continued as he held her gaze. "Get anything good, love?"

"Not exactly." Gillian chuckled towards his curious interrogation. "But I _did_ manage to get you this." She smiled, placing the small, intricate glass object along the surface of his desk.

A snow globe of the New York City skyline.

"I bloody _hate_ New York." Cal grumbled, though his expression seemed pleased towards the sentiment of having received a souvenir from her.

Of having been thought of.

"Say 'thank you,' Cal." Gillian prompted through a playful tone and smile, giving herself over to a soft airy chuckle at the man's open scowl towards the offending object.

"Thank you, Cal." He parroted sardonically as she gave another light chuckle.

"Smart ass." She quipped, that ever present, playful smile curving her soft, delicate lips.

"Is this _really_ the only thing you got me?" He asked, his tone now giving way to a bit of disappointment.

"No." Gillian admitted as she finally took a seat next to the desk to come eye level to him.

Though her gentle features were now shaped in something a bit more serious to usurp the playfulness that had just ensued between them.

"It's not." She said, her voice growing faint with these words.

"What is it, love?" He asked with the furrow of his brows as he leaned himself in from where he sat. "Out with it, then."

"Turns out that our kid was really just that." She murmured lowly. "A kid." The intimation of these grim, fateful words caused Cal's brows to raise high in astonishment.

"A minor?" Cal asked with the cant of his head, mirroring the same surprise Gillian had felt when she had first learned of this herself.

"Yeah," Gillian nodded. "At least when he came into the music business."

"A child star?" The furrow of his brows only deepened to this newly acquired information.

"Mmhm." She gave another small bob of the head. "And I'll give you three guesses as to who brought him into the industry." Gillian said with a serious look in her eyes. "But you'll only need one."

"That rat bastard who wouldn't give me the time of day?" Cal asked, referring to the man who had refused to talk to him after the press conference.

The young man's music producer.

"Yep." Gillian spoke softly, that same seriousness lingering behind her kind eyes. "The same one."

"So how..." The furrow of his brow deepened in troubled thought as his words came slowed in their pensive tone. "...did _that_ bloody viper...managed to get his hands on our dead guy without a row from his parents?" Gillian's soft features were gently caressed with the faintest hint of maternal sadness.

Fleeting in its appearance before being swept away by her more professional demeanor as she collected herself.

"He was his own guardian." She whispered lightly.

"Emancipated?" Cal's expression came just as baffled as her's when she had first discovered this.

"Yeah." This came a breathless, whispered response as she gave the bob of her head.

And both saw the other wondering exactly what this might mean.

What could have possibly made this young man turn from his parents?

His family.

Just how awful had things been for him to have left them to be on his own?

"You'd think they'd have some record of that, yeah?" Cal asked.

"It's a pretty significant legal process, so I would imagine that they would keep some sort of paper trail." Gillian agreed with a small, pensive nod.

"You'd think they'd let us have a look at it?" He gave the raise of his brow as the twitch of a smile tugged along Gillian's soft delicate lips.

"Only if we had someone on our side with some pull..."

This caused an exchange of knowing smiles as Cal loosed a chuckled laugh.

"You really think she'll go for it?" He asked. "Helping us with this?"

"Depends on which one of us asks." Gillian countered.

"Right then." Cal murmured through the smirk of a smile. "You ask, yeah?"

"No way." Gillian gave the shake of her head as the smile lacing her lips turned just a bit wry. "She's all yours, Cal." She chuckled towards the scowl he gave her. "I have a party to get ready for. And it requires some shopping."

"Oi!" Cal quipped with the unamused furrow of his brows. "Spending my money on a party I'm not invited to?" He asked.

" _Our_ money." Gillian quickly countered in correction to his statement. "Tell you what." The smile along Gillian's lips grew. "You handle talking to your Ex wife about helping us with this case," She murmured with the slight softening of her voice to this counter offer. "and you can be my plus one." And she watched as Cal sat back in his chair, thinking this offer over in his head as he held her gaze before he gave the flamboyant lift of his hand and an almost pompously cheeky grin and raise of the brows.

"But I haven't a thing to wear, love." He protested dramatically as Gillian gave open laughter towards this show of almost childish defiance.

"Come on, Cal." Gillian coaxed tenderly with a smile to match. "Talking to Zoe's not going to be that hard." She said in regards to Cal's ex wife and Assistant Attorney General, Zoe Landau.

"Says you." He grumbled back as she gave him a playful nudge. "She doesn't bloody hate you."

"And she doesn't hate you, either." Gillian countered this argument before continuing. "Afterwards I'll even take you shopping with me to pick out something nice for our date." She continued in attempt to win him over through bribery, like one offering a sugary treat to an uncooperative child.

"Bloody _hate_ shopping." He stated with another petulant grumble.

"I know." Gillian murmured softly. "But you _do_ like parties."

"Alright, yeah." Cal muttered in defeated agreement, looking to his desk in slight dejection before lifting his gaze to Gillian once more. "So when exactly _is_ this little soiree, hm?" He asked.

"Next Friday." Gillian answered as Cal gave another disapproving frown.

"Bloody hell." He groaned in renewed frustration. "The day _after_ Thanksgiving? Really?"

"I know." Gillian concurred with the odd timing of this event. "I think they're calling the event 'Black Friday.'"

"That's a bit dramatic, isn't it?" Cal retorted rhetorically, his tone laced in bitter sarcasm.

"A bit." She agreed grimly before continuing. "And more than a little macabre, considering they plan to use this party to release an EP album for December's Child."

"And EP album?" Cal asked with the furrow of his brows, his expression somewhat lost towards this terminology.

"Extended player." Gillian murmured, divulging what she had learned as it had been explained to her. "From what I understand, it's a small collection of songs used to generate interest and awareness in a musician or band. Longer than a single release, but much shorter than a completed album." She said, her expression soft and pensive as she spoke. "From what the band's manager told me before we left, they had been in the middle of working towards finishing their latest album. Just before our guy took his life." This came but a breathless whisper along the soft tremble of her lips.

"They're doing that so soon?" Cal questioned, his features shaped in slight befuddlement, somewhat repelled by the studio's decision.

"Yeah." She murmured lightly with the small bob of her head. "Along with the announcement of a temporary frontman and new tour dates."

"A new lead vocalist?" Cal asked through a furrowed expression. "Bloody vultures." He hissed lowly in disgust. "That's just in poor taste, love."

"Agreed." Gillian nodded as the two fell into a brief moment of silent reflection. "But the band's producer gave his assurance that attending this event would be valuable to our investigation." She said. "So you ask Zoe for a favor?" She coaxed softly. "And then come with me to this thing?"

"I suppose I _have_ to now." He muttered as he finally gave himself over to a defeated sigh. "If I'm working Thanksgiving, I'm going to have to ask her to take Em."


	10. Track 9: Ghost Encounters

**A/N: So, my apologies for the length and delay of this chapter. I am still so completely humbled by your guys' support of this project. Especially since I took some time to go over previous chapters and noticed the errors missed in self-editing. You guys are amazing for supporting me and this tale despite that!**

 **This next chapter includes details directly inspired by a dear friend of mine and fellow author of the anime realm, Galaxy Visionary. Her descriptions, most especially in her work Black Out, heavily and directly influenced this chapter. Thank you, my friend, for continuing to be a much needed source of support, love, friendship, and inspiration.**

 **As a side note, you think my original character Kristean Mitchell is awful (especially in this chapter), just imagine what it's like in my mind...**

 **Enjoy the update, and don't forget to review!**

* * *

 _Celio_

 _9th Ave & Washington_

 _New York City, New York_

 _Friday, November 24_ _th,_ _2017_

 _(Black Friday)_

Everything about this evening made her feel like someone else.

The loud, oppressive music.

The intimate, darkened ambiance.

The strangers mingling amongst themselves at the bar or in various corners of the club.

The way she had dedicated precious time after work in styling her thick, voluminous raven tresses in such a way to cause soft, tantalizing curls to cascade over her left shoulder. Revealing the tanned, russet color of her exposed back.

Even the attire she had chosen to clothe herself with.

The uncharacteristically form fitting, backless dress...in one of her favorite colors, black...hugged her curves and impressive backside to end off at just above her knees. Classy enough for an elegant night club of this caliber. But a sexy fingertip length that begged to have a man's hands there.

This dress, even...or maybe most especially...made Ria feel like a completely different woman.

Someone else entirely.

Someone sultry.

Mysterious.

Exotic, and alluring.

A braver, more confident version of a girl...

A woman.

One who had never been hurt.

Or broken.

One who had never been given the endless sea of reasons to distrust.

Others.

Herself.

A woman who scoffed at the mere notion of such self doubt.

A woman, who openly laughed at the condescending voice of dissent that told her she would never amount to anything on her own.

There had been so many times...where she had managed to convince herself that there was a level of honor in being a survivor. That she could, and should, wear this title proudly. Like a badge. Thriving in the face of adversity and unspeakable horrors. Conquering one's demons to rise above and move forward.

To have survived, and...better yet...made something of herself.

To prove the cruel internal voice of dissent wrong.

But...then...

There were so many other times.

Other days...

Where she was still just a nameless, faceless baggage screener.

Or...worse yet...

That same fragile, misguided fourteen year old girl.

Her dark, burnished eyes dropped with these dour thought. Down to the counter top of the bar where she sat, and to the glass of rich red wine she had ordered for herself. Having angled her body to the side of the bar, legs crossed at the ankle, gave her the opportunity to people watch.

To scan the crowd.

And read the people gathered at this party to see if any of them gave off signals that they knew something.

Anything.

Her gaze drifted from her glass of wine, slowly along the endless, nameless faces. Some clearly well-to-do. Dressed in the finest fashions New York City offered. Others sporting a more anarchistic style. Goth. Punk. Grunge. A style probably just as expensive, but none the less separating them from those who chose to openly conform to wealthy society.

But all of them.

Every single one.

They were all here for the same reason.

To bear witness to this more than slightly scandalous spectacle of a social gathering. To watch one of their own raised and immortalized as his own record label openly used the tragedy of his untimely death for monetary profit. The release and sale of the band's unfinished album presented and hailed like the Holy Grail of the deceased artist's legacy.

His final words, laced in haunting melodies, the last piece of himself left behind in the wake of his suicide.

It felt wrong. But like a grisly car crash, everyone found themselves stopping to take a look, whether they wanted to or not.

As she took in the mass of unfamiliar faces, fingertips gently grazing her glass of wine as she looked without really seeing, Ria suddenly felt something change. A startling shift in the atmosphere that drew her out of this stupor. As if the room had experienced an abrupt drop in temperature that made her physically shudder. Her exposed flesh quivering as it puckered with the explosion of visible goose bumps along her arms and shoulders. A tingling surge of electricity ran from the bottom of her spine, between her shoulder-blades to blossom along the crown of her head as her dark gaze instinctively navigated her surroundings for the source of this intrusion.

A form of hyper-vigilance that had been ingrained in her at a tender age in order to detect and avoid danger.

To survive.

And as others turned their heads, her eyes followed before identifying the new arrival to the night club.

A face that Ria found herself recognizing.

The band's producer. Kristean Mitchell

And as he entered the club, he stood apart from _both_ separate and distinct groups that had gathered for this evening's events. The more rebellious, ragtag group, and those dressed in a finer, more eloquent style. Because, though he had dressed himself in yet another beautifully tailored suit, the man had forgone the formality of a jacked and tie for tonight's gathering. The black fitted vest wrapped itself possessively around his slender waist. The sleeves of his dress shirt, having been casually rolled to just above the elbows, gave him a slightly more personable, after hours look. The top buttons of his dress shirt seemed purposely left undone to reveal a thin, delicate chain and small gold charm. Too small for Ria to identify through the low lighting of the club and distance, but a piece of jewelry nonetheless worn with all the masculine flare and strength of a strategically chosen power tie.

The whole ensemble gave him a dark, suave appearance that echoed and complemented the classic, almost regal beauty of his date in the black cocktail dress. The band's manager and disgruntled woman who had escorted them through the lobby for Gillian's meeting with the man. And he boldly finished off this entire look with tantalizingly attractive, mussed raven black hair. Left almost haphazardly disheveled for the evening as if a woman's hands and fingers had already had their way with him and his dark tresses before he had come here.

And...maybe they had. Judging by the way he had just waltzed into the club smiling.

All eyes were transfixed upon the beguiling couple, enamored with their dark beauty as the man gave a slow, almost wry little side smile to the sudden attention they had managed to obtain upon their arrival. All eyes took in their slow approach across the length of the club as they made their way to join one of the smaller groups congregating at the open bar where Ria sat. All eyes flicked with a level of curious fascination and interest.

Even her own dark gaze was held captivated towards the man's almost magnetic presence before that vibrant pale blue gaze...the true color of his eyes now currently veiled by fashionable, translucent designer RayBan sunglasses...gravitated towards her ogling.

Cordially dismissing himself from the small group at the end of the bar, the man began a slow, predatory stalk towards Ria as her gaze flitted away towards her drink. But avoiding directly looking at him didn't seem to stifle the man's overwhelming presence as Ria felt him wordlessly lay claim to the seat next to her. Sitting in such a way as to gaze outward towards the gathered crowd as he reclined against the bar, utilizing the counter as a makeshift backrest.

Ria continued to tentatively watch him from her peripheral as he lit the cigarette he'd stealthily retrieved from his business trousers. Taking a slow, satisfied drag, the man released a small screen of smoke to veil his profile before his left arm came languidly draped along the counter of the bar towards Ria and her glass of wine as he slowly encroached upon her personal space. His wrist adorned with another tasteful watch and neon wristband for his entrance into the club.

And he was _just_ close enough for Ria feel unsettled with the proximity of his body to hers.

But not so close as to cause her to immediately want to abandon her place at the bar.

And she witnessed through a discreet side-glance how he gave a little side smirk to this. This little game he was playing with her. Casually people watching as he sat right next to her. Taking another drag of his cigarette. Close enough to signal that he was sitting with her, and her alone, while proceeding to openly ignore her like she tried to ignore him.

Tried...

And failed...

From the brief, minute expression that had flashed across his face...features now made almost unworldly in their ethereal appearance under the low lights of the club...Ria could tell that he was rather amused at how uncomfortable he was able to make her. He seemed to be enjoying the idea of making her squirm under her bodice without so much as a word or glance in her direction as slender fingertips began to lightly drum a beat along the surface of the counter-top where his free hand rested near her glass of wine.

This bizarre non-interaction continued for several minutes as her gaze drifted between those fingers and her untouched glass, holding her tongue as she debated with her self on simply taking her drink and moving. Finding somewhere else to sit. Away from him. But then...she wondered if he would follow her if she did that. Back and forth, she silently argued with herself to the rhythm of his finger-taps before they suddenly stopped, drawing her gaze up towards his face.

The smallest sigh slipped through the man's nose in a thin puff of smoke, snuffing out his spent cigarette in the ashtray to his right before those same slender fingertips made their way to his designer frames. With his right hand, the tips of his middle finger and thumb came in light contact with the rim of his sunglasses to slowly draw them up and away from his face. Revealing the truly hypnotic vibrance of his eyes as the glasses came gently nestled in the deliciously tantalizing mess of his jet black hair.

And this slightest change had given him the faintest air of vulnerability and openness. His appearance coming off just a bit younger than his years with this gentle disarmament and the way he now splayed and stretched _both_ of his arms along the bar's surface behind him. Completely owning the space as he looked out towards the crowd, offering Ria an attractive view of his profile. Until, with the slowed turn and tilt of his head, he finally came to face Ria. Their gaze meeting in a sudden and almost violent collision of pale blue and dark mahogany brown.

And his eyes...

Those pale, icy oceanic eyes were like beautifully destructive waters. Dangerous, in the way they fascinated and enthralled her as they simultaneously threatened to drag her down. Submerge and baptize her in their treacherous, frigid depths. With no hope of a lifeline for her to cling to before going under completely.

When she looked into his eyes...

Plunged into the depths of that riveting pale blue gaze...

It felt like she was drowning.

And with the way he looked at her now. With that mesmeric stare. He looked at her, with the faintest smirk of a smile, as if to wordlessly express to her that he believed she wanted something from him.

...and...

That he also intended to make her work for it.

And Ria gave a small, disapproving scowl towards his unamuzing antics as that smug little side smirk twitched infinitesimally further along his features. Giving a sigh, she held his gaze in a forced stare.

"Hi." She uttered sternly in an attempt convey her displeasure.

"So..." He whispered before an absolutely beguiling smile spread along his tragically beautiful features. "She speaks." The man murmured lowly, his voice and tone dancing along the promise of laughter. "I mean...with the way Gillian dominated the meeting last week...I really wasn't sure." He grinned to her, keeping his body angled towards the crowd as he held her dark gaze. "It's nice to finally hear what you sound like, Ria." His voice lowered with the intimate whisper of her name, causing Ria to have to slightly incline herself towards him to hear his words. "May I call you Ria?" He asked in afterthought with the smirk of a smile as her brows furrowed in slight disapproval.

"Torres." She corrected with the distancing use of her surname. "What do you want?" This came asked with the small furrow of her brows as the man's expression came shaped in a strangely playful expression.

"Oh...it's not what _I_ want." He offered her a beguiling smile, his eyes languidly roaming her body before surfacing towards her face once more. "The question is..." This came lowly murmured with that almost paralyzing gaze of his. "...what do _you_ want..?"

"Excuse me?" She quipped with a small, unamuzed scowl towards his antics.

"Come on..." This came through a slightly smug smirk of a smile. "I'm not a stupid man, Torres." He politely played along with her subtle request for distance with the formal use of her surname as he himself now leaned in ever so slightly along the bar from his reclined position. "I _know_ that you weren't at that little meeting of ours to take notes." And she watched as his startling gaze roamed her face, seeking some form of validation to this.

"What?" She whispered with the furrow of her brows, her own eyes flickered along his ethereal features.

"Okay, fine..." He countered, taking in her bemused and somewhat perplexed expression. "So you weren't there _only_ to take notes." This slightest and seemingly unimportant clarification of semantics rolled off the tongue followed by a knowing smirk of a smile.

"What makes you say that?" Ria asked tersely in an attempt to cover up and veil her growing trepidation in the face of this man.

"The way you were looking at me." He whispered this bold statement just above the cacophony of the club, holding her dark gaze with that magnetic, predatory stare as he said this. "You couldn't keep you're eyes off of me." His eyes trailed down her body before slowly creeping themselves back up to her face again. "The whole time Gillian was talking to me." The man gave a small pause of consideration before continuing. "Now...normally I'd be a bit flattered by that." He said. "With a beautiful woman such as yourself." This came with the smallest twitch of a side smile. "But then..." He murmured with the slight furrow of his brows and cant of the head. "...it didn't really seem like you were staring at me in the _good_ way."

"Really..." Ria's tone came a bit put off by the man's antics as he continued to hold her gaze, giving a small passive hum.

"Mm" This came an attractive sound from his throat and chest followed by a smug, cockeyed smirk. "So..." He murmured quietly enough that Ria had to lean just a bit further towards him to hear his words. "...what was it you were _really_ doing, Torres..?" Her name came a breathless whisper from his thin, perfect lips as she swallowed hard along this question.

And as she gazed upon him, she found herself questioning how she should respond.

What she should say...if anything at all.

But as she sank into the depths of those pale blue eyes, Ria knew two thing for certain.

That he already knew he was on to her.

...and...

That he was tenaciously determined in finding out what she was withholding from him.

"I was...watching you." Ria murmured as the man's expression shaped itself into the faintest makings of bemusement.

" _Watching_ me..?" He asked curiously with the furrow of thin brows as he held her dark gaze. "Why?"

"To gauge your non-verbal responses and reactions to Gillian's questions."

"...really..." The man's interest came piqued, his expression mildly aroused and stimulated with the slowly creeping smile that curled the corners of his lips as he finally angled his body towards hers.

In the low light of the club, the small glint of his jewelry caught her gaze. And Ria noticed that the charm he wore around his neck like an Armani tie was a small, gold cross. Haunting in its unassuming beauty as it rested against the pale glow of his skin.

"Find out anything interesting about me?" This question drew her eyes back to his face as he gave an almost lascivious smile to her staring.

"Honestly?" She uttered with the small furrow of her brows. "You come off as a bit calloused." And with this blunt response, Ria witnessed his amused and slightly libidinous expression become just a bit perplexed.

"Really..?" He asked with the cant of his head, looking mildly surprised by this. "Because I've been told I come off as a bit of a douche-bag."

As Ria's jaw went slack, the man's bemused expression shifted as a radiantly beguiling smile broke across his handsome features towards her open reaction at having been caught off guard with his jest.

"Wow." Ria muttered under her breath with the raise of her brows as she collected herself...staring the man down who merely gazed right back at her. "You really _do_ enjoy being a jerk, don't you?" And he gave a low chuckle in response to this.

"I'm not sure _enjoyment_ has much to do with it." He said with a faint smile. "I just don't feel like fighting against my natural disposition."

"Which is to be unpleasant?" Ria quipped sardonically with the raise of a brow, gaining a slow, creeping smile from the man.

"Deeply...in fact" The man offered this with a grin before giving a small shrug, his words coming slow and pensive in thought as he mused to himself. "I find that being an asshole works for me."

"Seriously?" Ria's tone and expression came openly dubious in challenge to this statement.

"Sure." The man gave another small shrug of the shoulders as if to physically brush off her doubt. "I get everything that I want..." He murmured lowly, his eyes having drawn themselves towards the infinitesimal, minute details of the counter-top's surface as he spoke. "Besides..." His voice came an almost lifelessly melodic whisper with the lift of his exotic gaze. "...it helps that I _really_ don't care what people think."

The two held each others gaze in a moment of silence as the abrasive sounds of the night club's celebrations continued to swirl around them. And Ria searched the man's face for something... Anything at all that would have given an indication. A feeling. An emotional response or affect to correspond with how lonely these words had just made him sound.

But all she saw...was an absence of what she might have expected to see.

And there were only two things she could surmise from this.

Either he was bluffing in order to impress her in some way with this show of indifference towards what others thought of him.

Or...

He honestly meant what he had just said.

But...she couldn't quite make out which one it might be, and had to begrudgingly admit that both were equally unnerving. And she felt that she needed to take a ventured guess.

"That sounds like a really lonely way to live." She offered up this observation in a soft whisper, watching the man consider this a moment as he fished for his second cigarette.

Slender fingers gracefully curled around the end of the fresh cigarette as he lit it. A soft glow briefly illuminated his ethereal features with the flick of his lighter before darkening again with the lower light of the club. A slow, pensive curl of of smoke creeped from between his perfect, parted lips as he looked away from her and towards the crowd.

"Hitting me with the whole 'lonely at the top' mentality, now?" He mused as he continued to stare at nothing in particular, taking another pensive drag of his cigarette. "Yeah, well..." This came with the faintest twitch of a smile through that thin veil of smoke before his exotic gaze found her face once more. "...that's really not me." And that smirk of a smile lifted just a bit further at her expense.

"...I'm not so sure about that..." Ria whispered this lightly, her own dark gaze drifting towards the deep, rich color of her untouched wine.

"Please..." This came a soft, condescending snort through a thin veil of smoke from the man's slender nose. "If I'd wanted this type of conversation, I would have gone up to Gillian instead of you."

"What's _that_ suppose to mean?" Ria quipped with a small scowl.

"It means..." His cold gaze narrowed along her disgruntled expression. "...that you _really_ aren't qualified to be poking around in my head." He murmured lowly, holding her stare before looking away with another dismissive shrug. "Though I doubt Gillian is, either." This followed the light drag of his cigarette before he loosed a smoky chuckle as he looked through the crowd. "Not that it wouldn't be fun laying on her couch." He mused to himself in a melodically smooth, languid tone. "Letting her pop the hood."

"So if you didn't want to have a conversation with me, why _did_ you come up to me and single me out?" Ria asked, perplexed by this man's interest in her as he gave the furrow of his brows in consideration to this question.

"Honestly?"

"That'd be nice." Ria quipped, holding those magnetic pale blue eye in a challenging stare as the man gave the faintest smirk of a smile.

"I was kind of hoping you'd let me by you a drink."

"No thanks." She muttered as politely as she could manage to this offer. "I already have one."

"This?" The man questioned with an underwhelmed glance of disapproval towards her glass of red wine.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing." The man mused as he considered the drink for a moment before his eyes returned to her face once more. "It's just that it's completely wrong for you."

"How so?" She countered tersely, baffled as to how an alcoholic drink could be considered inappropriate for her.

"It's boring." This came sharply blunt and to the point. "And safe." He said with the faintest twitch of a side smile to her. "Frankly...I think you can do better."

And before her very eyes, the man switched his cigarette from one hand to the other. It came gracefully poised between the fingers of his left hand before perishing in a funeral of smoke and ash as it was snuffed out in the ashtray next to him. She watched on helplessly in a mild state of baffled confusion as to what he was now up to before the slender fingers of his dominant hand wrapped themselves possessively around her wine glass to claim the drink in question for himself.

"Hey!" Ria chastised the man's daring behavior as he wordlessly smiled to her. "I wasn't done with that."

"You are now." He countered as he lifted the glass from the counter.

"That's mine." She protested, her tone and expression interlaced and shifting between perplexed outrage.

"Not anymore." The man declared as he took a brazen sip of her cup, holding her dark smoldering glare before the glass came at rest against the bar. "It's mine now." He said, having just laid claim to it with his lips as the glass remained in his curled grasp. "Unless you'd like to share." This bold offer came like the testing of stilled waters with a cockeyed smile to Ria's openly perturbed expression.

"No." She answered curtly as he responded with a low chuckled laugh.

"I didn't think so." He admitted with a triumphantly cocky, debonair smile before flagging down the tender at the other end of the bar.

"What can I get for you tonight?" The tender asked, his gaze drifting between the two at the bar.

"The lady needs a Mexican Black Russian." The man stated, ordering Ria the drink she had just turned down as the bartender gave a nod with a small grin.

"Coming right up."

"A Mexican Black Russian?" Ria asked, keeping her gaze on the bartender a few feet away as he made her drink.

And she wasn't quite sure if she should be offended by this order or not.

"Some clubs call it the Brave Bull." She heard the man say, watching him through her peripheral as she kept her gaze on her new drink.

"What is it?" Ria asked.

"Something that suits you." This came lowly murmured as her gaze drifted away from the bartender to take in the expression of amusement etched along the man's handsome features. "It's tequila and Kahlua on the rocks." He finally answered her question as the bartender finished off her drink and presented it to her.

And Ria couldn't help but take in this gift with trepidation. As if it were a wild dog about to attack her. Because she didn't trust who it had come from.

"The drink's not going to hurt you." She heard this soft whisper through the cacophony of the club as she gazed upon the dark liquid in the beautifully crafted, elegant crystal tumbler. "In fact..." This drew her gaze from the dark, rich gift as her eyes once again landed into those frigid liquid pools. "...you may find you actually enjoy it." She held the man's mesmeric stare as he gave a smile to her apprehension. "Just try it." He coaxed with that beguiling smile. "If you like it...I might just get you another one."

"And if I _don't_ like it..?" She countered, her voice coming far more breathy and affected by this offer than she had wanted it to.

She didn't like this tilted stage she found herself on when he gazed at her. The way she felt herself tugged and pulled from a simple conversation about a drink...to something else entirely. The subtle way he was able to simultaneously lure her in and set her body on edge with anticipation. Questioning the intentions of this offer. Of his words. The way he looked at her. And smiled.

"If you don't like it," He said through that smooth melodic tenor as he held her questioning gaze. "then you'll just have to tell me what you _do_ like so I can give it to you." And suddenly she sensed that he was no longer talking about the drink.

Ria gave a small pause to this. Turning it around in her head. Over and over again, to decide how to interpret this. Because the calm placid expression along his face gave nothing away. But his eyes as he held her dark gaze. They somehow seemed to speak volumes to her through their icy depths as he waited for her to take the next turn. Waited...for her to make the next move with all of the predatory patience he had displayed when he had first descended upon her, having painstakingly bided his time for her to speak first. He waited like that now, watching her make up her mind in this little game of his. A game she found that she had never actually agreed to play with him.

With this, Ria finally took the drink in her hand. Tentatively wrapping her fingers around the glass, she took a cautious sip of the liquid as the taste of it slowly washed itself over her taste-buds. And she was taken aback by the surprise this drink offered. A little more on the darker side, this drink skipped all of the fruity flavors commonly found in tequila. Opting instead for an even bolder flavor pairing. Coffee. The raw burn of the tequila was finely balanced, softened and offset by the creamy, almost faint hint of chocolate from the Kahlua. Making it rich and smooth with the way it warmed her from the inside out.

"It's good, isn't it?" The man offered, having watched her partake of his gift with a smug little side smile.

"Yeah, actually." Ria muttered in agreement through her surprise. "It's not bad." And the man gave a soft chuckle to this, taking another casual sip of the wine he'd stolen from her as that cocky little smile spread along his lips.

"Told you." His tone came wholly satisfied in this triumph with an expression to match as the two settled into a more comfortable silence.

A silence that didn't demand to be filled with meaningless, idle conversation. His oppressive, predatory gaze no longer threatening to drown her as they now both looked upon the crowd. People watching as they sipped their drinks. Set apart in their own little world, away from the haze of sounds colors and people continuing to whirl around them. Languidly swirling the rich red drink in the shapely glass, the man watched the wine move to the tempo of the graceful dance he had commanded it into. His expression pensive before he spoke.

"You know..." He mused, almost seeming to talk to the glass as he murmured this. "...I've never really understood why women have been described like fine wine."

"I take it you don't by in to that?" Ria almost scoffed, her voice lightly laced in bitterness towards the sexist tone of his words.

"Not really." The man admitted, taking another small sip of the drink in his hand before continuing. "I mean...I've never been able to actually _drink_ a woman." He said with a faint smile. "So the sentiment doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me." And Ria managed to stifle a condescending snort by lacing her full Latina lips around the drink this man had given her, forcing herself to remain silent as he continued in his philosophical musing.

"To me..." This came murmured lowly from the space between them as his gaze finally lifted from the wine to Ria's face. "...a woman's body is more like a finely crafted instrument." He offered this simile as he held her captive with his alluring, predatory stare. "Some...are designed like an authentic Stradivarius violin." His voice came smooth along the wine he took his time with as he spoke. "And others..." He said, giving the briefest pause as the corner of his lip lifted in intimation. "Others...are build like a classic Fender Strat." And Ria's brows furrowed to this trope as her lips set themselves in a taut line of baffled displeasure.

"An electric guitar? Really?" Ria quipped, completely unnerved towards his words as he merely smiled to her. "You..." She breathed in disbelief. "...see me..." This came with the dubious, pointed lift of her brow. "Like a guitar?" The man's smile widened with this question as he gave a small, unassuming shrug to counter her disapproval.

"Maybe I do." His eyes lingered on her daringly for just a bit longer than comfortable, causing her to subconsciously bite along her lower lip before speaking.

"Well _that's_ a bit sexist and objectifying." She countered, glaring at him in an attempt to definitively convey that she wasn't at all amused by this revelation.

"Maybe..." He countered her rebuttal towards the dehumanizing nature of this comparison. "Just a bit." This agreement came offered as he met her indignation with an almost whimsically playful smile. "But when you think about it, you _have_ to admit that it's a better analogy than wine." He said as he persisted in making his point. "A fretted stringed instrument." This came lowly murmured in that haunting melodic tone. "With a neck..." His eyes watched as Ria unconsciously swallowed under the heat of these evocative words and the alcohol she had consumed. "...and body..." With this, her eyes fluttered away from his exposing gaze as she took another drink from the glass to distract herself. "...that's able to convert the vibration of its strings into electrical signals." She took another, larger sip to steady and distance herself from these feelings building within her to a painful crescendo, wishing that the drink would somehow cool her. "The vibration occurs when someone strums, plucks or fingers the strings." The low, almost torturous whisper of his voice drew her in as her lips parted along the glass in a soft sigh, her mind helplessly reeling with thoughts and desires her body cried out for. "And when you know what you're doing..." The man proceeded to whisper to her waiting ear, filling her head with the most sinful, erotic images as he continued his verbal foreplay. "...she ends up making the most beautiful sounds." He said as the tips of his fingers unobtrusively grazed themselves along the top of her hand. "It's all in the touch." This subtle, unassuming touch finally lifted her gaze towards his face and the smile lingering along his lips. "But like any instrument, the potential can't be fully reached in the hands of an amateur."

The two silently held each others gaze. And without even realizing it, Ria had been reduced to breathlessness with his words and the way he now leered at her. Wordlessly communicating how much he thought of himself, and that he believed he was _no_ amateur.

"Do you want more?" He asked, causing her brows to furrow as she was lifted from these risque thoughts.

'What..?" She blinked, perplexed by what he had meant by this question as he simply smiled to her.

"Your glass." He said. "It's empty." This caused her gaze to drift towards the crystal tumbler on the counter back to his amused expression. "Do you want more?" This repetition gave her pause as Ria truly found herself pondering this man's offer before giving her reply.

"Yes." She admitted honestly as she held his penetrating gaze. "But I'm not sure that I should." And the odd comfort of his hand tracing hers ceased as the expression of his face came a mixture of concern and disappointment.

"You don't trust me." He said, his exotic pale gaze seeming to search her face for reply.

"Honestly..?" She murmured, holding his stare. "I'm not so sure that I trust myself right now." And the man loosed a quick burst of an amused guffaw.

"Are you planning on jumping my bones?" He asked bluntly, more than a little amused by her open confession as her gaze shamefully drifted towards the counter's surface.

And Ria felt the full force of these confusing mixed emotions rushing themselves upon her. Muddled and hazed through the alcohol she had consumed. That this man had somehow managed to stir the most primal part of herself. The animalistic side of her that didn't care that she was at this event in a professional capacity. Taking in her chagrined demeanor, the man's voice came softer in coaxing, though still a little amused at what he had just heard.

"I'm a big boy." He murmured lightly, drawing her gaze up from the bar as she met his gaze and the wry smile playing itself along his lips. "I think I can handle you."

And...Ria found herself overwhelmed and worried over just that.

"Come on." He coaxed gently with a strange little smile. "One more drink won't kill you. Besides..." This came softly murmured as he leaned himself in to broach the space between them. "Drinks are a great remedy for loosening tight lips, so to speak. And the only thing I enjoy more than the company of a beautiful woman..." These words came so quietly murmured with such weight as he held her gaze, leading her along the sound of his voice as he gave a brief pregnant pause before continuing. "Is a really. Good. Secret."


	11. Track 10: Ghost Mistakes

**A/N: So, you guys may have noticed that I've been messing around with the chapter titles a bit. Now...usually I like to consider myself fair when coming up with chapter titles. But, with this story, I just haven't really been happy with them, hence the changes. This latest overhaul is meant to reflect the musical nature of this story. Like a soundtrack! Hope you enjoy and that these are more reflective of the story over all.**

 **As a side note, special thanks to the guest reviewer of chapter 10! I honestly wish I could thank you personally. One day, maybe, if you get an account I will be able to do just that! And another special thank you to my dearest friend, GalaxyVisionary for your review. The unique quality and generosity of your words ALWAYS humbles me, love. Always. And I don't think I will EVER be able to find the words to truly express how much your love, support, and continued companionship mean to me.**

 **And now, without further ado, enjoy this latest installment! And don't forget to review! Please!**

* * *

 _Lightman Group Headquarters_

 _Washington, DC_

 _Saturday Morning, November 25th, 2017_

She _knew_ that she was in trouble.

 _Big_ trouble.

And there were _so_ many things that told her as much.

The fact that she had woken up, her mind wildly swimming in a dizzying, drunken spin. In a strange hotel room, in a bed not her own. Her thick dark tresses a disheveled mess, still in last night's slinky black dress.

That she had been roused from her slumber at 7:30 in the morning. On a Saturday. By her boss. With a group text summoning the team into work. On a _'Saturday'_. When she had still been in New York City.

The anguishing pain _throbbing_ in her head like a drum beat that had somehow managed to blossom and peak to an agonizing crescendo on the taxi ride back to DC.

The sick knot of nausea that sat like a rock in the pit of her stomach. And the body aches that followed.

Eli's concerned text messages over her absence that trailed behind the rallying of the team. None of which she had responded to.

She couldn't.

She wouldn't.

Because she already knew the extent and horror of the mess she had gotten herself into.

And she didn't need Loker _or_ Lightman to remind her.

...she already knew...

And her body felt the ramification of this mistake. From the agonizing throb of her head to the ache of her toes.

As she snuck through the main lobby of the building, Ria desperately prayed to go unnoticed as she stumbled into work. To simply be able to focus on the case that was now almost alarmingly consuming the time and precious resources of The Lightman Group. As well as the personal preoccupation of her boss. The great Cal Lightman.

A man she hoped to avoid today.

But as Ria found herself practically begging to the heavens above to go undetected by her close knit cohort of colleagues in the wake of her latest personal scandal, a familiar voice rang out that caused her to visibly cringe against the pain and embarrassment of being caught sneaking into work so late in the morning.

"Holy crap!" The loud exclamation came booming in her anguished mind as she turned towards the sound.

And Ria couldn't help the exasperated sigh of irritation that followed as she held the alarmed gaze of her co worker.

"Yeah, well..." Ria finally acknowledged Eli's assessment of her. "That's about how I feel." She admitted as the faintest makings of shame shaped her exquisite exotic features.

"No..." Eli shook his head as he continued to take in her disheveled state. "I mean...you look terrible." He countered bluntly with that same characteristically brutal honesty he always commanded in conversation. "Awful."

"Gee..." She said with the sardonic roll of her eyes towards this disparaging appraisal of her appearance as she casually attempted to rake her fingers through her dark, thick tresses. "Thanks, Loker" Ria retorted bitterly as he simply continued to stare at her, his gaze coming narrowed and just a bit too fascinated by her peculiar state.

And, if Ria were willing to be as honest as Eli, she _barely_ remembered having stepped through the door of her apartment for a quick wardrobe change before having come here. Trying to recount if she'd even managed to spend the time to comb her disheveled hair or brush her teeth to wash away the foul taste in her mouth.

"Like Gene Simmons when it's really, _really_ humid." Eli mused, almost to himself as he continued to stare at her, causing Ria to openly glare at him in disapproval towards his unsolicited commentary over her haphazard presentation.

"Seriously..?" She harshly chided as she continued to scowl at him. "You need to cool it with the whole 'radical honesty' thing." The sharp chastisement of his brutal assessment of her looks came laced in equal parts self-conscious indignation.

Yet the harsh backlash towards his behavior only seemed to cause Eli to grin smugly in amusement.

"Can't." He quipped with a little side smirk. "I refuse. Besides..." The small smile playing along the corner of his lip began to twitch just a little further with the following statement. "...it's what you like about me, Torres." Eli said with complete confidence and self-assurance in these words as he boldly continued. "It makes me trustworthy." He grinned.

"It does..?" Ria quipped through a level of bitterness as she took in his cocky expression.

"Well, yeah." Eli countered with the shake of his head through a squinted gaze towards Ria, as if this should have been self evident. "Because when I tell you that you look hot, amazing, fantastic...you'll _know_ I'm telling you the truth, and not just trying to get with you."

Eli's honest confession completely stunned her. Though it really shouldn't have. And Ria couldn't help the small, soft little smile that shaped and curved her full, exotic Latina lips.

"...thanks, Loker..."

"Of course." He responded in kind, the smug smirk along his lips growing just a bit kinder and empathetic as he gave a small nod to her and the obvious struggle she was enduring this morning. "Any time." This came on the breath of a small pause before that mischievous smirk returned. "Just...not today though." He admitted as he appraised her disheveled appearance once more. "Sorry."

"You're sorry, Loker?" Ria snapped dubiously as she glared at him once again. "Really?!"

"Yeah...okay, fine." Eli relented with a grin. "Sorry, not sorry?" His playful teasing was met with the furrow of her brows and purse of her lips as Ria turned to walk away in order to avoid physically damaging him.

"Oh hey!" She heard him call out to her, gaining her attention and gaze as she glared at him over her shoulder. "Lightman's looking for you. And he seems kind of pissed." He tacked this on with slight amusement at her expense as she gave an audible groan.

"...great..."

As she finally turned away to embrace her fate with Cal, Ria's phone began to ring as she gave yet another small groan of protest.

Why...of _all_ days?

Who else could _possibly_ want to rain on her ensuing, metaphorical downpour?

Grabbing for her phone, Ria gave a small furrowed scowl towards the unknown number.

"Hello?" Ria answered curtly through a small huff to the person on the other end of the phone. "Who's this?"

 _'Long time no see, Torres.'_

And the erotically intimate familiarity of this cool, smooth, melodically monotonous voice chilled Ria to her very core as she gave a hard swallow to stifle the nausea that followed.

"... _you_..." She hissed quietly into the receiver of her cellular device as she scowled towards the disembodied voice of the deceased young man's producer, Kristian Mitchell. "How did you get this number?"

 _'You gave it to me.'_ The voice countered with the invisible smirk of a smile. _'After your second drink.'_

"I did?" Ria asked, quickly sifting through her muddled thoughts of last night in order to recall having done that.

But...she _must_ have, seeing as he was now calling her.

 _'Mmhm.'_ The voice merely confirmed this as Ria groaned.

"So why are you calling me?" She asked, her tone slightly perturbed at the way this day had gone so horribly wrong.

 _'I wanted to see if you were okay after last night.'_

The tender words of this man's expressed concern should have warmed her. Made her feel better. Somehow turned this day gone horribly awry. But...they didn't. In fact, they only seemed to serve in setting her off as she scowled at the disembodied voice.

" _Actually_..?" She hissed into the phone in an attempt to remain discreet and hide from the others in this office. " _No_! I'm _not_ okay, in fact." Ria quipped bitterly as the furrow of her brows and the headache both magnified with these words and frustration. "Because of _you_ , I have a migraine from hell _and_ I'm in deep trouble with my boss!"

 _'...Gillian's upset with you over last night..?'_ The melodically masculine disembodied voice murmured through the other end of the line with that same unnervingly intimate use of Gillian's first name, though the man was in no way on a first name basis with the woman.

"No." Ria responded with the small shake of her pained head. "Not Foster."

 _'...ah...'_ The voice murmured lowly through a level of understanding. _'...him...'_ And this gave Ria pause as she absorbed the weighted intonation in the tone of his voice.

"You don't like Lightman much, do you?" She asked as the man responded just a little to quickly for her liking.

 _'Not at all.'_ He said casually with the invisible shrug of his shoulders. _'Honestly, I have no personal feelings one way or the other over him. Though, I think if you ask him you'll find he's not my biggest fan.'_

"Really." Ria quipped bitterly towards the man's antics. "So tell me again _why_ , exactly, you're calling me?" She hissed into the phone. "And spare me the chivalrous bull crap about being worried about me."

 _'Okay, fine.'_ The man chuckled through the smooth tenor of his melodic voice. _'I wanted to make sure that you were okay after last night-'_

"Please." Ria retorted, swiftly cutting him off before he did the same in turn.

 _'Let me finish.'_ The casually monotonous tone of his voice cut through and silenced her protest as he continued to speak through the receiver. _'I wanted to make sure that you were okay after last night...'_ He said, slowly pacing himself in this demanded response as the sound of his voice floated through the device to her waiting ear. _'...because I was hoping to ask you out again.'_ This unsurprising self-interested motive caused Ria's full lips to draw themselves into a taut line of displeasure.

"We weren't going out the _first_ time!" Ria snapped haughtily in a quiet, restrained hiss. "I was _working_!"

 _'And you usually have generous amounts of tequila while working?'_ The man countered coolly through the invisible, irritatingly cocky smile lacing his unseen...perfect lips.

"...no..." Ria admitted with a light blush and embarrassed chagrin over her less than professional behavior with the man the night before.

 _'Then would you like to go out with me again?'_ The disembodied voice coaxed through the other end of the line, causing Ria to groan in protest.

"No thanks." She said bitterly. "I think I learned my lesson the _first_ time with you."

 _'But there are so many other lessons I'd be willing to teach you.'_ This came slightly teasing through an alluring whisper laced in heavy weighted insinuation as to what the man _truly_ meant.

"Are you for real?" Ria hissed out in complete dismay towards this man's overwhelmingly relentless persistence.

 _'Last time I checked.'_ The voice chuckled in amusement. _'Come on, Torres.'_ He continued to coax her along the way he had done the night before, through the velvet call of his voice. _'At least let me give you a private tour of the music studio. Show you around.'_ He offered this invitation through the invisible smirk of a smile. _'We could talk more about the case your company's investigating.'_

"You _do_ know we're looking into _you_ , right?" Ria retorted in a flat deadpan of disbelief towards the man's moxy.

 _'Well then.'_ This came another lowly chuckled response before the man responded casually. _'All the more reason to come see me again, right?'_

"Oi!" This came hollered from down the corridor as Ria saw her boss stalking towards her some distance away, and Ria's dark exotic eyes grew large in horrified dread.

"I can't talk right now." She hissed into the phone as her gaze flitted away from Cal's approaching form. "I'm a little busy."

 _'Uh-oh.'_ This came a dark chuckle of understanding, as if the man had actually heard Cal calling out to her over the other end of the line. _'Did Daddy just walk in the room?'_

" _Shut up!_ " Ria snapped in a strained, exasperated hiss.

 _'Only if you promise you'll consider my offer.'_ The voice through the receiver continued to playfully toy with her as she scowled to the air.

"I'm hanging up now." She quipped in an irritated groan laced in panic as Cal moved ever closer to her from down the corridor.

 _'Save this number in your phone, and call me back when you've thought it over.'_

And just like that, without further room for argument or debate, the man ended the conversation he had brazenly instigated before Ria even had a chance to follow through with her threat of hanging up.

"Where the bloody hell have _you_ been?!" Cal shouted as he quickly broached the space between them.

"Sorry..." Ria responded in a low murmur, tucking the phone back into her pocket. "I just got here."

"Yeah. I see that." Cal snapped angrily towards her open deflection. "Coming in at the crack of noon, aye?" He continued to chastise her as she attempted to steady herself under his soul exposing gaze. "Where _were_ you?"

"New York." She answered quickly, knowing any response _other_ than the truth would do her little good against him.

Though she doubted that the truth would do much to save her from his wrath, either.

And...she had been right...

"You bloody _stayed_ in New York?!"

"Yeah." She winced at the raise of his voice and the pain that it caused.

"Why?!" He snapped with the furrow of his brows and tilt of the head as he stared her down, taking another step forward into her personal space as she backed into the wall behind her.

An action that caused Ria to become increasingly defensive under his invasive gaze

"You were the one that wanted me to go to the party with you and Foster! It was a Friday night, and it was late!" Ria protested before she muttered lowly with the fall of her dark gaze in humiliation. "And...I was too drunk to make it home last night."

"Are you drunk _now_?! _Torres_?!" Cal yelled as he continued to press upon her boundaries.

"No." She muttered with a small scowl and the submissive raise of her eyes from the floor to his face. "I was drunk this morning when you texted me." Ria confessed this as the furrow deepened along her features. " _Now_ I'm just hung over." She hated herself for having admitted to this fact, but hoped that it might somehow earn her some small semblance of mercy from the man before her.

"Bloody _hell_ , Torres!" This loud chastisement quickly dashed her hopes as Ria flinched in fear and pain, scowling at the man.

"Could you _please_ stop yelling at me?" Ria practically begged as she felt her back pressed to the wall.

"What?!" Cal snarled out as he got directly in the young woman's face. "Am I being a bit too shouty for you?!" The strength and sheer volume of his abrasive boom violently rung the bell of her aching, throbbing head.

The man's anger with her was _far_ beyond her having been drunk, late, _and_ currently hung over. Ria could read that now from the way it simply _poured_ off of him. So she set her expression into one of determined resolve with the tuck of her chin and a pointed glare.

"Just come out and say what your _really_ pissed about, already!" With this bold challenge, Ria witnessed the man's features harden with the look in his eyes that followed and the drop of his voice that trailed behind.

"You _really_ don't want me doing that, love."

" _Yeah_! I _do_!" Ria rebutted these words defiantly. "Because it's already written all over your face."

" _Is_ it?!" Cal snapped with the raise of his voice and tilt of the head.

"Yeah." Ria fought back with the raise of her own voice. "So just come out and _say_ it."

"I don't _pay_ you to get _piss_ drunk, then fall arse over tit for the guy we're looking into." Ria blinked back the flood of confusion over these rushed words laced in an angered, heavy accent.

"Excuse me?!"

She wasn't sure if she correctly understood what he was trying to imply.

She wasn't sure that she wanted to know.

"Right then... Not blunt enough for you?" Cal said with the tilt of his head, refusing to back down or away from her precious personal space. "Fine." He muttered, his expression appearing ruthless and unforgiving as he spoke. "How about this? Did you _shag_ him?"

Ria's dark brown eyes grew large with the vicious cruelty of this latest accusation.

" _What_?!" She stammered in surprised outrage. " _No_!" This came practically shouted in Cal's face as she watched his gaze dart around and search her features for the real response he had been looking for.

"...but you wanted to..." His eyes continued roaming from her eyes, to her lips, to her nose and the creases of her forehead before flitting back to her stunned gaze.

"No!" She snapped far too quickly before biting her lip. "I don't know..." She admitted with cautious trepidation as he continued to invasively stare at her. "...maybe..?" Ria finally offered this middle ground of a response as Cal rewarded her with the minute fraction of personal space he backed out of.

"Right, then..." He murmured, his tone having grown just a bit lower with the faintest hint of sarcasm. "That's a 'yes'"

"Yeah, well..." Ria prepared to defend herself as she quickly countered Cal's deduction. "I _didn't_. But I'm pretty sure he wanted to sleep with me, too."

"Oh-yeah?" Cal quipped sharply towards her weak, flimsy defense. "Is _that_ was he was doing last night, then? Getting you drunk and chatting you up?" He asked sardonically with the high arc of his brows. "Trying to get into your pants, yeah?"

"I was wearing a dress." Ria corrected him bitterly.

"Bit of a skirt-chaser, then?" He countered with the over-dramatized tilt of his head.

"I wouldn't know." She retorted flatly. "I was in a _dress_..." This came brazenly flippant as she held her ground against his many inferences and that exposing gaze of his. "But...it felt like he was trying pretty hard to impress me." She admitted before she muttered lowly, more to herself than the man before her. "That...or _mess_ with me..."

"Really." His eyes narrowed along her face as she gave a small, stifled nod.

"Yeah..." Ria murmured quietly. "It was...weird." Her words trailed behind themselves, one slowly after the other as she paced herself in these thoughts. "The way he chipped away at my defenses." She said. "...trying to open me up to him..." This came pensive as she thought over the conversation from the night before. "Like it was a _game_ to him, or something..." She remember this encounter, though the clarity of some of the details had been blurred and faded in the aftermath of her poor decision. "...to get me to talk to him. Tell him things." Her voice faded out as she felt herself drawn and pulled right back to that moment with the man in the club.

"Like what?" Cal murmured, drawing her far off gaze towards him as her eyes once again focused along his face.

"...like why I had gone with Foster to talk to him at his office." She responded honestly as she continued to explain. "He didn't buy that I was there to be her note taker for the meeting..."

"He didn't?" Cal asked, curiosity overtaking and supplanting his anger for the first time in this conversation as Ria nodded.

"Said so himself, then pushed me for why I had really been there with her."

"And..." Cal asked with the pointed raise of a single brow.

"What?"

"Well..?" His tone and expression came slightly irked towards Ria's flippant question. "What did you _tell_ him?!" He coaxed aggressively with a pointed stare.

"The truth." Ria's response came blunt in the face of his scrutinizing gaze and the expression of dismayed outrage laced in disgust that followed.

"Why in bloody _hell_ did you do that?!"

"Because he already _knew_!" Ria snapped, glaring defiantly at her boss as she spoke. "...I..." She stammered along her words as she fought to hold that all seeing stare. "I saw it in his eyes."

"Oh-yeah?" Cal retorted in his characteristically snarky tone. "...and what 'sweet nothings' did they whisper to you as you were _gazing_ into them, hm?!"

"It wasn't _like_ that!" Ria countered swiftly in her own defense.

"And what _was_ it like..? _Exactly_?" Cal asked sardonically.

"He looked at me the way that _you_ do!" Ria shouted at him, fed up and outraged by his unrelenting chastisement and questioning of her every word and regrettable actions.

She knew she had made a mistake. A very _big_ one, at that. And she hated the way he took every opportunity at the slightest turn-of-phrase to remind her of this. She had gotten too close, and had already suffered the consequences of the burn. And she knew he could see that. Yet, he insisted on maliciously rubbing salt in the wound instead of merely allowing her to slink away in shame.

As the two were enveloped in the lull of this stifling, pregnant pause of silence, Ria watched as Cal considered her words for a moment. Weighed their meaning and implication as he stared into the depths of her dark eyes. And in the midst of his silence, Ria continued.

"The way he stared at my face..." She began again, her voice a quiet murmur that drew him back into the conversation. "It was invasive and exposing..." Ria offered up this admittance as she continued to explain. "It felt like he was reading me." She said, allowing the weight of this observation to register with her boss before she lowly grumbled. "Or at least _trying_ to." Cal's brows furrowed deeply in consideration as he held her gaze questioningly.

"You saying he's a natural, love?" His voice dropped to match hers in this whispered conversation of theirs.

"I don't know..." Ria admitted cautiously with the small twitch of her head. "Maybe?"

"You know how rare that is, right?" A pointed stare followed this question as Ria gave the faint bob of her head.

"I know." Ria agreed, having learned from working at The Lightman Group that people who could innately sense and detect deception in another through microexpressions and body language were few and far between. "Which is why I'm not sure about him."

And...she wasn't.

She wasn't at _all_ sure about him. His intentions. His abilities.

Maybe he was much like herself. Able to look through what someone was 'saying' in order to see what they really meant. And the very thought of this. That he was somehow like her. It made her more uneasy than she'd ever been.

Or...

Maybe she had just seen what she had wanted to see. Like a fleeting glimpse into a mirror. The reflection hazed and distorted through the lens of last night's lack of inhibition.

"Anything you can tell me that you _are_ sure of?" Cal asked, drawing her up and out of these muddled thoughts as she gave another small nod of the head.

"Yeah, actually." She murmured quietly in contemplation. "He said something about enjoying secrets."

"That's it?" Cal seemed visibly deflated and underwhelmed by this as Ria's expression furrowed into a small scowl.

"No. Not exactly." She quipped. "The _way_ he said it..." Her voice lowered to a whisper as she gave pause before speaking again to finish this thought. "It was like he was talking about someone _elses_ secrets..." She said. " _Not_ his own."

"And?" Cal asked, impatiently prompting more from her.

"And..." Ria began to expand on this latest observation. "I think that maybe our dead guy told him something." She said. "Something he didn't mean to." The expression of her face came a wash of somber concern as she spoke. "I think he told him a secret."

"And you got all this off of him while he was chatting you up?" Cal asked, his eyes coming intense, searching her face as she definitively nodded again.

"Yeah."

Cal absorbed this latest information, his eyes continuing to dart along her face as he sat in silence, staring at her. The silence came so heavy and oppressive, threatening to crush her before he gave the simple side-bob of his head and a little smile to her.

"Good girl." He said, rewarding her efforts as she reflected a little smile of her own. "Now get back to work." And with this command Ria's gaze narrowed as her brows knitted together.

"Doing _what_?" She asked.

"Well...you already have an in with the guy, yeah?" Cal commented on her budding relationship with the band's producer.

"Sort of.." Ria offered with a demure, passive shrug as her gaze drifted to the floor with the lowering of her voice. "I guess." She mumbled as she actively skirted around the fact that she now had the man's number _and_ an open invitation to see him again.

"Good." This came short and pointed with another side-nod. "Use that to see if you can get anything else out of him." And Ria gave a swift nod before Cal backed out of her personal space, releasing her to follow through and complete her latest assigned duties as she began to slink away from him and the awkwardness of this meeting.

"Oi!" Cal shouted at her back, causing her to give pause and glance over her shoulder. "There's a bottle of aspirin in my desk drawer." He said with a pointed chin thrust in the direction of his office. "Help yourself, darlin'. Take care of that headache, yeah?" The kindness of this offer and the tone of his voice caused thick black lashes to flutter under the affects of this small act of mercy from the hardened and calloused man. "And drink plenty of water, aye?" He added with a small nod before pivoting on the heels of his shoes and heading the opposite direction.

Leaving Ria as if none of this had ever happened.

* * *

 **A/N: So the interaction between Eli and Ria was taken from this quote, below! Always give credit for sources!**

 ** _"_ _Hey, you look terrible. Awful. Like Gene Simmons when it's really, really humid._ _"_**

 ** _Eli Loker (to Emily Lightman): Season One, Episode Three._**


	12. Track 11: Ghost Messages

_Subliminal messages, much like microexpressions, are fleeting and short lived. Missed by most, except for the rare few who know how to spot them._

* * *

The thick, billowy padding of the noise-canceling headphones gently cushioned and cradled the delicate shell of her ears. Though their plush confines offered little to no protection against the angry, aggressive melodies that now assaulted her subconscious. Flooding her mind as they seeped into her soul. Weighing it down. Making it feel as heavy and defiled as the music she now listened to. The newly released EP album a 'gift' from last night's promotional event. Courtesy of the production studio and the band's recording label. Graciously given to all those in attendance.

Including herself.

Gillian had spend the entire morning listening to the same four tracks. Delving into the scarred psyche of a young man no longer able to speak on his own behalf. These four songs the only thing left of his voice. His words. Haunting and emotionally profound as she listened to each song, over and over again. Carefully analyzing his word choice and content.

And the song titles had been _just_ as enlightening as the lyrics.

'Mother Mary' was clearly a song written about a woman the young man had been deeply and irrevocably influenced by. The feminine caricature of a lover. Or quite possibly the young man's mother. And Gillian suspected that the song 'Mary Jane' was referencing the same mysterious woman that seemed to plague this young man's thoughts, though she doubted that the tongue-in-cheek wordplay of the song's title had gone amiss with the band's followers.

Both songs seemed to share a similar emotive style. Vulnerable, melodic vocals that were coddled and protectively wrapped around the stylized, almost violent aggression of squealing guitars and oppressive bass. But both were none the less virtuosic and artfully composed. Though they differed in that the first possessed more of a feeling of nervous desperation and angst-ridden panic, while the other was laden with a more somber, despondent feeling of hopelessness and despair.

Like one in the very midst of giving up.

With what she had heard, Gillian could see how this young man's raw, natural talent had so readily captivated his music producer. She could understand why Kristean Mitchell had been so immediately impressed.

But what she was currently having difficulty making sense of, was the last and final song of the unfinished album. Aptly titled 'Your Cloak-and-Dagger Smile'. Because...it was completely different from the previous tracks. In place of nervous kinetic energy or overwhelming sorrow was this all-consuming rage. A forceful, dominant and voraciously demanding emotion that simply _poured_ off of every word. Every note. And it didn't quite seem to fit with the tentative psychological profile she had managed to create from the footage Eli was still sifting through.

And...this anomaly continued to baffle her in spite of the extensive time and effort she had put into repeatedly listening to the song.

Taking a cleansing breath through her delicate nose, the removal of the headphones followed as she slowly exhaled. As if to rid herself and expel this dangerous toxic buildup in her heart, mind and soul in order to be able breathe. To think. To start over with renewed clarity and sense of focus. Another, almost exhausted sigh parted her lips with the small hang of her head. As her hair cascaded to veil her features, the scientific, analytical part of her mind continued to rebel against these conflicting characteristics.

What she sorely needed...was a break.

A new perspective.

And possibly a fresh set of ears.

"Hey." This low murmur of a greeting stirred Gillian from her thoughts. "Didn't expect you to be in the lab." She delicately tucked the strand of hair out of her view behind her ear with the tips of her fingers, glancing over her shoulder towards the one who spoke to her.

"Whoa..." Ria mumbled, taking in the exhausted expression etched along Gillian's features. "And I though _I_ was having a rough day..." And Gillian couldn't help the soft, warm smile that curved her lips as she took in Ria's soured demeanor.

"Cal found you?" Was all she could ask as she watched Ria physically bristle in a defensive manner, as if she were preparing for another confrontation.

"Yeah." Ria muttered bitterly, her features set in a hard expression bordering along a full-fledged scowl.

"Didn't go so well..." Gillian said more than asked.

" _That_ obvious?" Ria quipped tersely

Gillian found herself swiveling in her chair to fully face the young woman. Gazing at her with a neutral, warm expression as she attempted to discover how to calm the defensive fight response that Cal had managed to trigger.

"He was really worried about you." Gillian murmured softly, gazing up at the young woman from her seat as Ria scowled at her.

"Yeah, well..." Ria muttered. "He has a funny way of showing it." And Gillian gave another demure, warm chuckle to this as she nodded.

"He does." She openly admitted this agreement to Ria's complaint with a small, soft smile. "But the worse he gets, the more you know he cares." Gillian said, watching how these words resonated with the young woman as they held each others gaze before thick black lashes fluttered to briefly veil dark brown eyes.

"Could you ask him to care a little less?" Ria retorted, though this request lacked most of the defensive hostility she had entered the room with as Gillian gave another small, kind chortle of laughter.

"I could try." Gillian said. "But I doubt it would help."

"Yeah." Ria muttered agreement. "Probably not." And Gillian watched Ria's defensive walls slowly descend as the visible agitation in her face and stance receded in turn. "So..." She mumbled, once again taking in Gillian's fatigued demeanor and presence in the lab. "What are you working on?" And as she approached, Gillian swiveled back towards the desk and the headphones that rested there.

"I..." Gillian breathed in a weary tone as Ria gazed over her shoulder at the monitor. "...have spent the _entire_ morning going over the album we received at the gala last night." She murmured lowly as they both looked to the screen where the vexing song and its lyrics were displayed.

"Tapping into your rock-n-roll roots?" Ria asked with a smile as Gillian merely lifted her arm to form a rocker fist with her dominant hand, pinky and index finger erect in a cheeky display.

"Let me guess," Ria smiled towards Gillian's antics. "Guns N' Roses?" And Gillian glanced over her shoulder with a daring lidded gaze and little smirk of a smile.

"Please..." She scoffed playfully with that little smile. "Metallica. Wherever We May Roam Tour. 1991."

"Bad _ass_ , Foster!" Ria grinned in approval as Gillian flashed a dazzling smile.

" _Thank_ you." Gillian chirped, pleased with herself as she once again turned her attention towards her work.

"So..." Ria mumbled as she peered over Gillian's shoulder once more. "...something special about this song, in particular?" She asked, having noticed before announcing her presence how intently Gillian had been gazing at the computer screen.

"...maybe..." Gillian murmured, her gaze glassed over and as far off as her voice sounded.

"What's up?" Ria dropped her voice to match as she starred at the lyrics on the screen...listening, as Gillian spoke.

"Well..." Gillian began in a soft, pensive voice. "...from what I've been able to determine from the footage and from those who knew him..." She paced her words, slowly sifting though her thoughts as she spoke out loud. "...from a psychological standpoint, our guy was an internalizer." Her words came pensive...thoughtful, as she ruminated over the facts that had been presented to her. "Sullen. Withdrawn. Quiet. Kept to himself." She continued to list off all of the descriptive traits she had either noticed from the footage or had been told from those who knew him. "And then..." Gillian breathed. "... _then_...there's _this_."

Without further word, Gillian simply grasped the plush headphones from the desk where she had set them, handing them to Ria in silent invitation to listen. As Ria set the headphones in place, Gillian cued the song in question. The sounds coming in a harsh, abrasive, almost violent rush of introduction before falling into a more artistically stylized, melodic tone to match the pained, desperate sounding voice. And as she listened, Ria's eyes read the words along the screen that flowed through and interlaced themselves in between these emotive sound-waves.

In this space between  
What I know you know  
And what you won't say  
Your silence it stays  
On my skin like a stain

The young man's voice was strained and grainy, agitated in frustration as his words began to paint a story.

And it's too much to take  
That look on your face  
As you smile at me  
Then just walk away

Yeah

This tension created by the backdrop of abrasive music was like a held breath. Like pulling hair to keep one's sanity just before everything was about to fall apart into a scream.

And...he did.

Scream.

And it's everything!

That you don't say!

This secret is slowly killing me!

The sheer force and strength of it causing Ria's eyes widened in mild alarm as she clutched the headphones that lay snug along her sensitive ears..

"...whoa..." This came a breathless gasp of surprise, her brows knitting together against the jagged, sharp stabbing pain of his voice as it viciously wreaked havoc along the throbbing ache of her alcohol-induced migraine.

Yet she continued to listen. Her vision narrowing along the lyrics on the computer screen to gain some semblance of an anchor in this turbulent storm she'd been thrust into. The sounds now warring with each other between this all-consuming rage and the faint breathlessness of an echoed ghost whisper.

So say something!

 _and end this_

Say something!

 _and end this_

Say anything!

 _end this_

Anything!

 _to end this_

This dizzying spiral created a sense of frantic urgency. A feeling of friction that pushed itself against her...

And pushed...

And pushed...

Building itself into a climax with the ravenously demanding screams that followed.

Just say something!

To end this!

Just end this!

End this!

End this!

The song hit its crescendo. Peaking along the musical interlude and intricate, melodic rifts as Ria felt herself guided down from this adrenaline high. A chanted whisper of resolve now entwining itself within the music.

You better

 _end this_

You better

 _end this_

You fucking end this or

 _I will_

These final, hostile words of hissed warning left her in a state of shock, staring blankly towards the screen before finger tips numbly removed the headphones with this songs conclusion.

Its end.

"Well?" Ria registered this gentle coaxing through the ringing of her ears and throb of her head as she glanced over towards where Gillian sat.

"This guy was _pissed_." Ria said, emphasizing the final word to express the level of rage she had detected from the song.

"Yeah..." Gillian nodded in agreement. "That's what I thought, too." She said, her delicate brows knitting together in a baffled expression. "But it just doesn't seem to fit my working assessment." This came softly murmured, her tone pensive. " _Everything_ about this song is externalized." She continued, as if talking through this process aloud. "It's confrontational. Accusatory. Hostile." her voice drifted in and out of these thoughts as she spoke, gazing at the computer screen and lyrics displayed there. "And with the repeated use of the pronouns 'you' and 'I', this feels personal." She said. "And...specific." This came along the faint whisper of concern. "It feels..."

"Like a threat." Ria offered this statement in the aftermath of her boss' faltered words as Gillian turned to meet her gaze from over her shoulder.

Her expression filled with that same bewilderment as she merely nodded.

"Yeah." She murmured in agreement as Ria's own brows furrowed in thought.

"Well... Maybe it is." Ria mumbled with a small shrug as Gillian continued to gaze up at her from over her shoulder before turning towards the lyrics displayed on the computer screen once more.

"Blatant, hostile threats like this just aren't typical of internalizers." Gillian said as she bit along her lower lip in focused thought. "It doesn't make sense if it's meant as a threat."

"What if..." Ria murmured, her own gaze now narrowed on the screen as the two worked together on this paradox. "...the song is directed at someone else..." She asked, her voice lowering along this train of thought. "...but the threat _isn't_?"

"Meaning?" Gillian questioned with the furrow of her brows as she peeked over her shoulder towards Ria.

"Meaning..." Ria mumbled pensively. "...that maybe this song was meant to be read-"

"Like a suicide note." Gillian interrupted, her eyes widening in revelation as the pieced finally tumbled into place.

"Yeah." Ria nodded, her gaze meeting Gillian's expression. "That's still a threat, right?"

"Yeah." Gillian agreed. "It is."

"Would that fit your psych profile of our guy?" Ria asked as the two held each others gaze, and Gillian nodded distinctively.

"It would." She admitted with a small nod, the two wrapped up in this moment of clarity before it was disrupted by a rapping of knuckles against the threshold of the room in announcement.

"Hey." Their heads turned in tandem towards this intrusion to bear witness to the wry look of amusement shaping Eli's features, his squinted gaze narrowing along the two of them with the furrow of his brows. "Am I interrupting something here?" His eyes shifted from face to face as the smile playing along his lips spread.

"You have something, Loker?" Gillian countered with the small, chastising tilt of her and a soft smile.

"Yeah, actually." He nodded, his features sobered some as he spoke. "Zoe's here." Eli said with a look of curiosity to Gillian. "Says she has something for you." His eyes followed her as Gillian stood from her seat.

"Thanks, Loker." She murmured with a small nod as she began to make her way out of the lab. "You two think you can pick up where I left off?" She asked, looking to Eli before glancing over her shoulder towards Ria as the young woman gave a nod.

"Yeah." Ria responded as Gillian nodded back to her with that same soft smile.

"And good catch with the song, Torres." Gillian complemented before that warm smile turned just a bit mischievously playful. "Rock and roll with it." She made this parting shot of a pun, causing Ria light up in a smile of her own before Gillian left to head to the main lobby of the building where Zoe was no doubt already waiting for her.

As she made her way down the strangely eerie, vacant corridors, her gaze met that of Cal's ex wife. Assistant Attorney General. Zoe Landau. And the two gave each other a small smile of recognition and acknowledgment as Gillian closed the gap between them in elegant stride.

"Hey." Gillian greeted the woman warmly. "Thank you for coming in on a Saturday." And Zoe merely nodded to Gillian's sincere show of gratitude towards her assistance.

"Emily missed him over Thanksgiving." Zoe responded with a small, passive shrug. "So I thought I'd kill two birds with one stone and get these to you while she sees him." Gillian nodded in understanding, knowing Cal had missed Thanksgiving with his daughter before Zoe continued. "Besides..." She said. "...when Cal called me up to ask me for such a big favor," Zoe murmured lightly as she held Gillian's gaze, her arms heavy with the fruits of her labor. "I knew it was important." A wordless nod of agreement followed this statement. "So..." She gave a hesitant pause, looking to Gillian through brown eyes she had passed down to her daughter. "...how is he...?" Zoe asked. "... _really_..?"

The look she gave to Gillian was one full of concern. Worry, over someone she has shared a life with. Once. And Gillian bit along her lower lip, biding her time in responding as she found the appropriate balance between honesty and raising a flag of alarm.

...because...she knew exactly what Zoe was asking her...

"He's taking this case harder than most." This admittance parted her lips as Zoe gave a nod of understanding, though Gillian's words seemed to do little to remove the look of concern etched along her features.

"That's what I was afraid of when I talked to him over the phone." Zoe murmured. "Then I saw in the news what this case was about." She said with the shake of her head towards the nature of the investigation that the Lightman Group was conducting, her brown gaze now cast to the floor of the lobby. "Why does he keep doing this to himself?"

"He wants answers." Gillian murmured, her cryptic words holding far more weight and significance than just this particular suicide case.

Because...it was _all_ suicide cases.

Every single one they'd taken on.

With every one that happened to cross his path, he continued to search for the same thing.

Reason.

Comprehension.

Understanding.

...forgiveness...

Lashes fluttered against the memory of his voice. His words to her when they had investigated a similar case.

 _There has to be some link between these girls. There has to be some reason why they killed themselves._

And...she remembered. What she had told him then. And times before.

 _I know you don't want to hear this again, but I'm gonna say it to you anyway. It doesn't matter how many you find a reason for, it wasn't your fault._

"Well...I just hope that _whatever_ it is he's looking for that he ends up finding it." The sound of Zoe's voice drew Gillian up from these dark thoughts as she looked to the woman, nodding in agreement.

"As for what I found on the name he gave me?" She said with a small pause. "Honestly, not much." This came with the handing off of a thin, scant confidential file as a thicker, more daunting file remained in her possession. "Legally speaking, the man's record was relatively unimpressive for the lifestyle he led." Zoe continued, giving brief details on what she had discovered about the deceased young man. "There was only one notable incident, really. A year and a half ago." She said, holding Gillian's gaze. "An assault charge that was settled out of court with a plea of 'no contest'." Zoe casually mentioned the case this young man had plead out, admittance of his guilt to the charges against him as Gillian gave the small furrow of her brows.

"And that's _all_ that you found?" She asked, holding the underwhelming file and its slim contents.

"That's all I found on the name that he gave me." Zoe responded with this weighted correction and a pointed stare as Gillian gave the curious quirk of her head. "I also found this." She said, handing over the significantly larger file and its contents with a guarded expression. "Same person. Different name."

This in and of itself didn't entirely surprise Gillian. Most entertainers changed their names upon entering the public spotlight. The creation of a new persona. But the look that Zoe gave her now..?

That look was cause for some concern.

"Do me a favor?" Zoe asked on the heels of trepidation, that same guarded expression etched along her features as Gillian gave a light nod for her to continue in this request. "Just...watch over him on this one, alight?"

Zoe's brow knit together with the infinitesimal down-turn of the lips and the breath of a pause. Her gaze darting from Gillian's face, to the thick file now in her possession, back to Gillian's face before she finished her cryptic plea for the safeguard of her ex husband.

"This one's _really_ ugly."

* * *

 **A/N: So a few notable things in this chapter!**

 **First, and foremost, the quotes from Gillian's memory of her conversation with Cal over a similar case comes directly from Season One, Episode Eight. "Depraved Heart".**

 **Secondly, the fictional song references for this chapter "Mother Mary" and "Mary Jane" are of my own creation, and can be found in my other work on this site titled "Notes Of Agony". And the song/poem/I don't know what to call it titled "Your Cloak-and-Dagger Smile" is my own creation as well. Please respectfully enjoy!**

 **And lastly, a big thank you to all of those still reading this story, and those who have spent the time to read and review. And thank you to another of my dearest friend, Fandom Angst, for finding and reviewing this work! Thank you, my friend!**

 **And on that note, I hope that you have enjoyed this chapter and the progression of this story! And don't forget to review!**


	13. Track 12: Ghost Sins

**A/N: You should all know that I do not post warnings on my work without good cause. So please...take it seriously. That being said. I sincerely hope that you all enjoy (if that is the right word) this unusually speedy update, and don't forget to review!**

 **Special thanks to Tangledupandsideways for their constant support and their warm review of chapter 12.**

* * *

 **WARNING:**

 **The following content may contain elements that may not be suitable for some audiences.**

 **Viewer discretion is advised** **.**

Those cryptic words haunted her, as she slowly made her way to her office. The weight of these files growing enormous with each step in the ensuing silence. And the weight of them never seemed to leave her as she set them on her desk. Gazing upon them for what seemed a lifetime in this unnerving, heavy quiet of a barren, Saturday afternoon. In lieu of the thicker, more intimidating file, Gillian decided to begin with the more manageable one that she had received from Zoe first.

Sliding the other aside, Gillian opened up the scant file with its skimp contents, realizing that it was much as Zoe had said.

In her own words... 'Unimpressive'.

An assault charge. In May of 2015. From what Gillian read, the police report stated that the young man had gotten into a physical altercation with a member of another band during a collaborative tour. After one of their live performance. Witness statements indicated that _both_ parties had played a part in the incident. But because the young man had been the one to strike first, and later determined to have been under the influence, _he_ had been the one to receive the criminal charge. To which he had readily admitted guilt in order to avoid a court appearance, earning him a hefty fine of two thousand dollars in its stead.

A price he had seemed ready and willing to pay in order to avoid a larger spectacle. Willingly separating himself from his wealth and money that...it seemed...he had grown indifferent to. Judging by what Gillian had seen him do with just _one_ of his songs that might have potentially made him _thousands_.

Flipping through the last pages of the police report, Gillian closed the file. Mildly disappointed in the fact that it had revealed very little that would have been helpful in this case. Then...her gaze flitted towards the more impressive file yet to be explored. Its secrets lurking behind the ominous, red 'Confidential' stamp.

And those same fateful words whispered in her ear. A foreboding echo. Zoe's warning to her...that things with this case would only get worse from here on out. And as fingertips apprehensively grazed the file, Gillian wondered what horrors might lie behind that classified seal. Lifting the file open with a breathless exhale, Gillian's eyes landed on the top-most legal document to have been filed.

A legal petition for emancipation.

This document in and of itself was not surprising, as the young man's music producer Kristean Mitchell had already informed Gillian that this process had occurred. And she assumed that this was the same form that the young man had needed to provide the production studio in order to be signed to a record label.

What _was_ of note, however, was what was actually _within_ the document.

And the _first_ anomaly to catch her interest was the name under which this request had been filed. Because, as Zoe had mentioned, it was a recognizable yet completely different name the young man had used.

Aden Nicola Ivan Koychev.

 _Not_ Aden McCaffery.

The _second_ peculiarity that piqued her interest was the fact that the young man hadn't been under the guardianship and care of his biological parents when he had gone to the courts to file this petition.

As she read further Gillian discovered that, at the time, the young man had been in foster care under the guardianship of state-appointed foster parents, Doug and Shannon Garacie. The petition had been made to sever himself from the state foster system. And _them_. The list of criteria that the young man had sited to the courts as grounds for cause?

Proof of financial stability and independence separate from his state-appoint guardians.

Irreconcilable differences.

...and...

Allegations and evidence of substantiated physical abuse.

From what Gillian could gather from the court documents, the young man's foster father had pushed him into one of the family's glass tables when he was thirteen. And the young man had landed in such a way against the corner that he had incurred a deep horizontal laceration along the right side of his lower back, suffering some minor nerve damage from the injury. Though there had been no further legal action against this single incident, the young man _had_ used it three years later when he was hired to his first job at sixteen. And the courts had ruled in his favor.

It had only taken a month or two after being granted emancipation for the young man to legally change his name. All of this having transpired before the young man was contracted with Switchblade Productions at the age of Seventeen.

Flipping back through the pages, Gillian flipped back in time. Back...ten years before this young man had started on the road to super-rock-stardom. To when he was only seven, and had first entered the state foster care system.

Because his biological father, a Russian immigrant by the name of Stephan Koychev, had been incarcerated when he was six and parental guardianship had been effectively terminated.

And...the young man's biological mother, Mary McCaffery Koychev had passed away the year after her husband's imprisonment. Leaving him with no one to care for him.

Making him a ward of the state.

Flipping past these legal documents, Gillian moved yet another year back. To when the young man had been six.

...only six...

And...it was the absolute grotesque horror of the photos starring back at her that cause Gillian's breath to hitch. To catch in her throat as fingertips grazed to lace her lips.

Gazing down at the six year old little boy staring blankly back at her through the forensic photos, Gillian's expression fell. The angry bruise across his face having formed itself in the shape of a large hand print. The split, swollen lip already beginning to heal. His small, fragile neck dappled with possessive purple fingerprints down to his tiny collarbones. And eyes. Large, dark brown chocolate eyes that were so hollow and dead. Empty.

And the other photos?

The others were worse.

Much worse.

But nothing could prepare her for what she had to read. The invasive, exposing forensic interview a terrifying documentation of this young man's childhood abuse. Chronicling each and every deplorable action and violation that he had endured by the hand of his own father.

An inhuman tale of sexual abuse that had begun at the age of four.

...four...

When he told the police he had first been violated.

His innocence savagely claimed by his own blood in violent sexual acts.

Sodomy.

Oral acts.

Exposure to substance abuse and pornography.

Things described through the eyes of a six year old that were too unseemly for adult eyes.

Thing...that had begun for him when he was only four.

... _four_...

But...nothing substantiated or documented until the age of six. When his father had finally _physically_ assaulted him in a drunken stupor. Leaving physical evidence.

Only then, did the authorities become involved. And the young man's mother was called away from work down to the police station. Made to bear witness to what had happened to her child in her absence.

Maybe if his father had only hit him first, someone would have noticed. Cared, maybe. Looking back into the eyes of that small child, Gillian wondered. If his father had just _started_ with the physical abuse...maybe he could have been saved sooner. Spared this hell that she read about now.

Maybe someone would have noticed the bruises.

Said something.

Saved him.

...someone should have been there to _save_ him...

And then...to add insult to injury...the young man's mother had passed away after a year of raising their son single-handedly. A year after her own husband had so irrevocably damaged him. Taking her own life with an overdose of antidepressants she had been prescribed after her whole entire world had fallen apart before her very eyes.

Leaving her son to walk alone in a harsh and unforgiving world before he followed in her footsteps.

And as Gillian gazed at those photos. Into those large, lifelessly haunted chocolate brown eyes. The only thing that Gillian could do...in the solitude of her office...was cry.


	14. Track 13: Ghost Crimes

**A/N: An extremely special thanks goes out once again to my dear friend, GalaxyVisionary, for their generosity in allowing me to utilize words from their work. Quoted directly below to start us off! I highly suggest you read their work!**

* * *

 _It's hard_

 _...to get heavy..._

 _...but..._

 _...you_ _ **have**_ _to get heavy..._

 _...to get light..._

 _-GalaxyVisionary, "Blackout-Chapter Three: Day And Night"_

She felt _so_ heavy. There was a heaviness in her soul that could have sank her to the very bottom of the deepest depths of the darkest ocean floor. And such a grief in her heart that all of the shed tears in the world couldn't alleviate.

And...this pain... It wasn't so much over the horrors she had just read about. These unspeakable atrocities that he had somehow managed to live through...but never survived. She had seen and heard her share of nightmares from patients within the walls of her private practice as a psychologist.

So...it wasn't merely this young man's past contained within these confidential files that had reduced Gillian to tears.

No.

It was the fact that here she was... Presented with this tormented history of horrific childhood abuse, and absolutely _no_ hope of being able to make things right. To help. Because of the sheer permanence of this young man's final decision to take his own life. And the fact that, by this very act of despair, he had cruelly robbed himself of ever begin able to reach out and seek help. To heal these deep wounds painted and plastered in the cold, stark black and white of those classified legal files. To have lived...just long enough...to maybe one day be rescued. Saved. To become whole again.

With everything she had read about that this young man had endured... _That_ , by far, was the most unbearably tragic crime of them all.

And it was _this_ tragedy that left her feeling heavy.

So.

Very.

Heavy.

And it would take time. For her to wash herself clean. To rid herself of these vile, ugly stains left upon her soul. Like tiny dappled fingerprints from this child's dirty hands as they reached out to her from beyond the grave. And...the futile guilt she now shouldered, knowing she would never get the chance to help him.

Not now.

So Gillian knew... The time and toll it would take on her to eventually crawl herself back up from this dark, black abyss. Out of this deep, endless crevasse and the rubble of this young man's troubled youth. The history of a child terrorized by his father. Then abandoned by his mother.

A checkered past of pain and abuse that, she noted with some disconcerting reluctance, this young man and her business partner shared to an extent. Though he'd never disclosed it to her personally, she had overheard him. Once. When she wasn't meant to.

And she remembered... What he had said, in confidence. What he had recounted to a lost little boy who had stolen away his baby sister in order to punish his dominating, overbearing father.

...she remembered...

 _'You don't know what it's like._

 _To have a dad like him.'_

 _..._

 _'Alright. Try this one on for size, right?_

 _Three nights a week, minimum...alright, he goes straight from work to the bar..._

 _...and when he does stumble home, in the middle of the night stinking of booze, right, he's straight in the kitchen and he's yellin' at your mum,_

 _and he...you know, maybe he's knockin' her about a bit._

 _Alright, you can hear all this from where you are. You're-you're hiding, in your bedroom._

 _Right, there's nothing you can do about it, but you're just...you're up there. You're layin' in bed. And you're waitin'._

 _You're waitin' because you know what's comin' next._

 _It's-it's footsteps on the stairs._

 _Alright, and you given up on God...God knows when. But you're layin' there, and you're praying..._

" _Make it stop."_

" _Please make it stop."_

 _Sound familiar? Hm? No?_

 _So...your dad didn't actually hit you. Or your mum._

 _Well, in that case, you're right._

 _I have absolutely no idea what that's like.'_

The personal tale of abuse he had recounted to that angry boy. Along with what he had disclosed to her personally in their private sessions about the suicide of his own mother. Gillian simply couldn't ignore the startling similarities between Cal and the deceased young man who's own suicide they were now looking into. Because Cal just couldn't help himself.

There was a reason why suicide cases affected him on such a deep, personal level. Every time. Because it was suicide that had drove him head long into the study of the human face and body language. To develop the science of mapping and identifying microexpressions. It was the death of his own mother that had lead Cal down this road. To the birth and creation of The Lightman Group. And to him becoming the world's leading expert in deception.

And...in part...it had been his father's abuse that had ultimately lead to Cal's mother taking her own life. Because she would have rather died than go back to the man over the weekend she had been granted reprieve from the mental hospital for a family visit.

Gillian began to fear that this case was just a little too disturbingly close to home. And...if she were able to see these similarities that linked Cal to the deceased young man... She knew that Cal would be smart enough to make the same connections. Eventually. At some point. And then take this toxic mess into himself. Making this case personal.

Or.

Worse yet.

That he wouldn't be able to see it at all. And his self-destruction over this young man's death would come to claim him by complete surprise. Taking everyone around him down in the process.

...collateral damage...

Zoe had been right. This one was really ugly. In more ways than one. And Gillian feared that it was already too late to avoid the inevitable fallout when she told Cal about this. Because...she couldn't _not_ tell him. That was an impossibility. She couldn't hide this from his all seeing eyes, no matter how badly she wanted to protect him.

From this...and himself.

With a small sigh of defeat, she raised herself from her desk, taking the weight of this young man's pain along with her as she gathered the files. Holding them close to her chest and tenderly coddling them as she went to meet her fate head on.

The short walk to Cal's office was just long enough for Gillian to school her features, though she knew it would do her little good. Lingering just outside of his door, Gillian gazed at him a moment. Watching him, as his attention came absorbed and completely consumed in the papers along his desk. Though she didn't know exactly what it was that had him so preoccupied, she surmised that it possibly had to do with their current case.

"Hey." This came a gentle request for the man's attention as she donned a small, soft smile.

"Mmh." Cal grunted this greeting, his gaze still riveted by what he had been working on before she had arrived to his office.

"Emily's gone already?" She asked casually with sweep of her gaze along his office.

"Mmhm. Yeah." His voice came distant and distracted, eyes down towards his desk. "Went back with her mum."

"How is she?" Gillian questioned, patiently waiting for Cal to surface and finally make his way back to her.

"Em's fine." He muttered dismissively. "Lippy as ever."

"You know she get's that from you, right?" Gillian chuckled softly, her voice warm and soothing as she spoke.

"Yeah, I know." Cal grumbled, still intently gazing along the papers of his desk. "Gets worse the more time she spends with her mum."

"She gets that from you, too." Gillian replied through a little smile laced in concern over his distraction.

"Mhm." This came another grunt of concession.

"Cal..." She murmured quietly.

"What..?"

"Cal." Her voice gained some strength to grab his attention as his eyes finally lifted from the contents of his work space.

"Gill?" Cal spat her name with the furrow his brows as he gave her the almost exasperated cant of his head from where he sat.

"How are _you_ doing?" She asked, meeting his penetrating gaze head on as he stared at her a moment.

"Fine." He uttered quickly in a sharp, dismissive tone to her overt concern. "But you're not." This came mumbled a little lower as she watched him take in each and every minute detail of her face.

"No." She gave the faint shake of her head in an honest response. "I'm not." This admittance came murmured through those soft lips. "But I will be."

Eventually...she whispered to herself quietly.

In time.

Cal gave the swift sidebob of his head to her honesty as he muttered. His tone just a bit kinder with his next persuasive words.

"Out with it, then, love." He said, peering at her intently through a narrowed gaze as his eyes darted inquisitively along every detail of her face. "What's got you all torn up inside?"

Though Gillian knew that it was impossible to hide this from him, she found herself wishing that maybe she could have had just a little more time before he had noticed her heartache. But that never happened with him. Ever. Which often left her with a twinge of pain akin to the removal of a band-aid.

"We got a new lead in the case." She murmured quietly as she watched his gaze drop to the files cradled in her arms before flitting back to her face.

"And you don't like where it's taking us?" Cal asked with the knit of his brows, taking in her trepidation and the way she hesitated before speaking.

"I'm not so sure I like where it might take you." This came a hushed, breathless whisper.

"How bad can it be, hm?" He questioned before his eyebrows raised into his hairline with the way her eyes dropped and her lower lip tucked between her teeth. " _That_ bad?"

"Yeah." She nodded, hugging the files a little tighter to herself as she finally met his soul exposing gaze. "It's that bad, Cal."

As she slowly approached him with an elegant step, her gaze deviated from the expression etched along his face to what he had been working on moments before she had entered his office. Along his desk were strewed printed stills from the footage they were going through. Images of the sullen young man. Dissected, picked apart, and painstakingly analyzed through black sharpy and his handwritten notes. And in the center of this chaos, unblemished by his hand, was the single photo he had received from the deceased's grief stricken girlfriend.

The first photo and informal introduction they'd had to this young man. Lean, distinctive, angular facial features. High cheekbones, thin lean lips, and dark, rich chocolate brown eyes. Eyes that looked away to avoid the camera's gaze with the slight tilt of his almost jaggedly sharp jawline and subtle hang of the head. A long, slender nose coming pierced with that signature nose ring. An unconventionally attractive style continued with the cut of his hair. Aggressively shaved on one side with bangs swept to the other and tipped in deep, vibrant electric blue. This show of anarchistic rebellion completed with black, gothic, somber attire, as if he'd dressed himself for a funeral.

And...knowing what she did about the young man now...Gillian wondered if maybe this openly hostile and somewhat unapproachable appearance and style had been adopted for more than just the stage.

Maybe it had been a way to protect and insulate himself by pushing others away.

Setting the files along one of the unoccupied chairs next to Cal's desk, Gillian tenderly fingered that photograph before lifting it from the desk. Gazing at it in the wake of this silence as she felt Cal's eyes upon her. Watching. Waiting. Knowing her well enough to be able to read in her expression and body language that she had more to say. That she needed to say. But didn't quite know how to...just yet.

So they sat in silence as she stared at that photograph. But as she looked at this young man grown to adulthood, all she could really see was that brutalized six year old little boy looking back at her. All she could see were those angry violent bruises. Those large, haunted eyes staring back at her through the forensic photos. And innocent, childlike features made completely void and lifeless. Set in an expression that showed a nearly frightening lack of emotion.

"The Assistant District Attorney was able to get us access to our guy's records." Gillian began, attempting to make this deeply personal topic of discussion less so.

"Zoe?" Cal asked with the cant of his head to her as she continued to gaze upon the photograph between her fingertips.

"Yeah." Gillian gave a small nod of concession.

"And?" Cal retorted almost impatiently with a small huff.

"And I now know more about him than I ever though I had wanted to." Her voice quavered along these words as Cal furrowed his brows to this.

"Alright. Meaning?" His tone came a bit huffy towards her hesitation and reluctance to share what she knew.

"Well..." Gillian murmured pensively, choosing her words carefully as she spoke. "...to start with, I was able to read the petition for emancipation." She said.

"Right then." Cal muttered. "Go on."

"And it turns out that he was in the state foster care system long before he petitioned to become his own guardian."

"Foster care?" Cal asked through a furrowed expression. "An orphan, love?"

"Of sorts." She admitted with a small nod. "His mother passed away when he was young. After his father was incarcerated."

"For what?" She heard him question, feeling his inquisitive gaze upon her as she decided how best to respond to this pointed inquiry.

"Domestic violence." Gillian murmured lowly with the faintest pause before she continued. "And child abuse." The subtle change in Cal's body language as he leaned forward along the desk towards her finally forced Gillian's gaze to meet his own.

And she knew by the look etched along his face that she needed to proceed quickly lest he be allowed to linger too long upon this singular disturbing fact.

"But what I don't understand, is that his music producer _knew_ about his emancipation." She said, holding Cal's penetrating gaze as she spoke. "Which means he _must_ have known about our guy being in the system, too." This came with the small baffled shake of her head. "But he didn't say _anything_ about _that_." Her brows furrowed with the drop of her gaze and the introspective softening of her voice to a whisper. "I can't imagine he _didn't_ know." Gillian spoke, finally relinquishing the photo between her fingertips as she placed it among the others along his desk. "And...it makes me wonder..." She whispered faintly, staring at the collection of photographs as Cal completed her thoughts for her.

"What else he's keeping from us." And Gillian nodded, lifting her eyes from the pictures.

"Yeah." She murmured lightly as Cal's lips flattened themselves into a taut line.

"Right then." He muttered, pushing himself up from his desk and the rubble of his work, wordlessly passing Gillian as she trailed behind.

"Oi! Torres!" Cal yelled down the empty hallway as Gillian followed his steps. "Bloody hell." He muttered under his breath in a quiet, disgruntled hiss before raising his voice into a shrill scream once more. "Torres!"

"Cal." Gillian murmured soothingly behind him in hopes of quelling the man's mounting irritation, to no avail as he simply continued barreling forward.

"Torres!" He hollered for a third time as the young Latina woman poked her head from the lab, Eli peering from just over her shoulder.

"What?" Ria quipped in equal parts irked trepidation.

"Didn't you here me calling you?! Torres?!" Cal snapped with a scowl as he stalked forward.

"I think the dead heard you." Ria retorted as she heard a small squeaked snort of amusement behind her from where Eli loitered.

"Cheeky." Cal gave an unamuzed, muttered grumble as he finally slowed his pace just in front of the young woman, rocking on the balls of his feet in thought before speaking again. "You got plans for tonight, Torres?" He asked, his tone blunt and to the point as Ria's brows knit together.

"Not exactly." Her words came slowed and cautious as her dark gaze flit from Cal to Gillian questioningly before eyeing her boss once more with the deepening furrow of her brows. "Why?" The slight inflection of this question gave away her nervous apprehension as Cal gave a dramatized nod to this.

"Right then. You do now."

"Wait!" Ria stammered as Eli gave the raise of his brows. " _What_?!"

"Change of plans, love." Cal said as he held her confused scowl. "You're going back to New York."

"Tonight?" Ria snapped, looking from Cal to Gillian, back to Cal with a bewildered gaze as he simply nodded. "Why?!"

"Like I said." Cal shrugged. "Change of plans, yeah?" He said, holding her dark brown gaze with that penetrating stare. "You go fetch your boyfriend. Get him here." This pointed jab towards Ria's strange connection with the band's producer came upon the heels of an open mouthed, gaped protest that was squashed before it could make its way past Ria's lips. "And _I_ get him to talk."

"Wait!" Ria protested, but before she could argue with the man he turned away, breezing past Gillian as the two went into motion in the opposite direction of the lab.

Leaving Ria slack jawed and Eli grinning.

"Cal." Gillian whispered lightly again, keeping pace with the man's gate as the two made their way back to his office.

"And _you_..." Cal murmured just as quietly to her as they walked together. "You and I, yeah?" This came a hushed whisper. "We're going to have a look at those files together, hm?" And Gillian couldn't avoid the way her lower lip made a home between her teeth as she gave a small apprehensive nod.

"Yeah." She reluctantly agreed, though couldn't argue against this being the only course of action. "Together." And she saw from her peripheral as the two walked in tandem that Cal gave another little sidebob of the head in agreement to this show solidarity.

And his willingness to help shoulder some of the weight of her internal burden over the files contents.

"Right. Together it is, then."

* * *

 **A/N: First and foremost. Happy Halloween. Blessed All Saints Day, And Day Of The Dead (All Souls Day). October 31st, November 1st, and November 2nd respectfully. I feel that maybe these next three days, in a strange bizarre way, encapsulate the feeling of this story.**

 **But I digress...**

 **So, Cal's quote/disclosure about his father's abuse was taken directly from Lie to Me Season 3 Episode 12: "Gone."**

 **Again, thank you all for your steadfast dedication to this particular piece. And a special thank you to Butimachrldr2, my mystery guest reviewer! I hope you enjoyed this update, and are looking forward to the next as much as I am!**

 **And remember! Each review comes with a speedy, personalized replied 'thank you,' free of charge! So...Don't forget to review and get your thank you now!**


	15. Track 14: Ghost Invitations

**A/N: So...in this chapter...I may or may NOT have used a quote from Hannibal Lecter.**

 **(also, I apologize for any spelling or grammatical errors. If you ever find yourself growing tired of these mistakes, or tired of me apologizing, then I would gladly accept any offers to edit my work! Ha!)**

 **That, and for the next month I may be out of commission with this story due to family visiting from out of town. But if you have taken the time to read this chapter and review, know that I have read your review. And I thank you in advance. And know that I will respond with a personalized thank you when I can.**

 **In closing, I am still so humbled by those supporting this piece. You have no idea how much your support and kind words mean. And the fact that you have chosen to take time out of your precious day to let me know what you think. So, thank you!**

 **And now, without further ado, I hope you enjoy this update!**

* * *

 _Switchblade Productions_

 _New York City, New York_

 _Saturday Evening, November 25_ _th_ _, 2017_

She felt naked.

Exposed.

...alone...

And far more overwhelmed than she had felt the first time she had come to this place. Entered through these doors and walked across this lobby. But then, that might have been because she was...in fact...alone. Because unlike the first time, where she had accompanied Gillian through these halls, there was no one here to accompany her now.

Maybe she should have felt honored. That Lightman would have trusted her with completing such a task all on her own. That he put so much faith in her abilities. She should have been flattered. But any amount of pride and confidence that might have been stirred within her over this fact was completely overshadowed and supplanted by this overwhelming sense of trepidation and dread.

Dread...mixed with an alarmingly voracious, visceral desire to see _him_ again. Kristean Mitchell.

Repugnant and off-putting as the man's personality was, Ria couldn't deny the raw, almost primal attraction she'd felt that night at the club. There was something undeniable about him. A confident masculine, animal magnetism he possessed that captivated her and drew her in. Caused her pulse to quicken. Her heart to race. Her breath to catch and become thready. And her body to long for things her mind knew she shouldn't want. Even now. Simply at the mere _thought_ of him.

Having crossed his path, Ria felt like a small, naive child who had stumbled haphazardly and quite by accident upon a loaded handgun. He was dangerous. She knew this. And she didn't feel safe around him.

...but...

This fear of being around him came laced in a level of excitement and childlike curiosity. And a desire to squeeze this proverbial trigger. Just once. Just to see for herself what might happen. To see...if he really was as dangerous as she had been lead to believe.

It was frustrating...that she felt this way about him.

Angering, that Lightman could see this weakness in her and seemed more than willing, at the drop of a hat, to use and exploit it for the benefit of this investigation. To gain the cooperation of the band's producer.

And more than a little fearful over having been allowed to handle this loaded weapon without so much as a proper safety setting.

Ria hated how she had been so readily banished from The Lightman Group in order to retrieve this man. Because, despite how much Lightman had trusted her with this task, it still felt like a form of punishment over her questionable behavior at the club. And she hated how she had gone to her apartment before departing to New York City. Painfully agonizing and fretting over her appearance and what she should wear for this meeting. Because the time spent fixing her earlier disheveled state felt so much like dressing up for him.

And she hated how that made her feel now.

"Excuse me, Miss." An unfamiliar, masculine voice called to her, causing her to glance over her shoulder towards the dark gentleman standing watch in the main lobby of the building. "Can I help you?" Ria gave a small, demure nod to the man who had just gained her attention as she began to walk over to where he sat himself in order to direct the flow of human traffic.

"Yeah, actually." Ria said, her features schooled in the neutrality of a professional expression. "Ria Torres, of The Lightman Group." She introduced herself quickly before stating her business. "I'm here to see Kristean Mitchell." And she didn't miss the bizarre way this name left its mark on the moment.

"Ah." The man muttered. "Him."

"Is he here?" She asked with the furrow of her brows to this man's reaction as he gave a quick glance to the clock.

It was obvious that this guy didn't particularly like the band's music producer.

"Yeah, he should still be here." He murmured before meeting her gaze once more, an odd little downturn tugging along the corners of his lips. "But you're gonna to have to head down to the Seventh Circle of Hell to find him."

"Okay..?" This came dramatically drawn out with the quirk of her brow, prompting the man to explain.

"Basement level." The man murmured with a small head nod towards the elevators. "Production booth seven."

"Ah." The faintest smile began to blossom along her full, Latina lips. "Thanks."

"Yeah, well...don't go thanking me just yet." The man chuckled lightly with the small shake of his head. "Not 'til you've made it back up topside."

"That bad, huh?" Ria asked.

"They don't call it the Stairway to Heaven down there, Miss." The man retorted.

"Well thank you anyway," She paused to read the man's name tag. "Roger." His name came along the smile that played along her lips. "For helping point me in the right direction."

"Or the wrong one." He quipped playfully with a smile and wink of his own as she turned towards the elevators, offering him a parting wave of farewell. "Keep your eyes open and your head up, Miss." The man hollered to her back. "It's a real shark tank down there."

The elevator ride was uneventful. Peaceful, almost. And _just_ long enough to allow her anxiety over this meeting to take hold and spread. As the doors parted to the floor she had requested and she exited the insulating safety of the elevator, her sharp heels clicked against the concrete floor to the backdrop of growing insanity. Slowly passing one door after the other in an attempt to find the production sound booth she was looking for, Ria took note of the light suspended just above each one she walked by. Some were turned off completely, and she assumed that those rooms were currently unoccupied. Some were green, and Ria wondered if that was similar in meaning to a traffic control light to indicate that it was permissible to proceed through the door into the production booth.

Walking past the almost endless row of doors, the muffled sounds of distorted guitar riffs rose and intertwined themselves along the percussive sounds of bass drums that blasted dark heavy metal beats. And these sounds, as they practically bled through the very walls of this place, came even more intensely disturbing than normal as they were interlaced and practically strangled with shrill, high pitched screams and deep aggressive growls. Words that came too distorted and muffled to understand most of the time. Only most of the time. And when words actually came through clearly enough to be understood, their meaning came far too disturbing for Ria's comfort. The unsettling thought coming to her that these must be the very sounds of Hell...

And suddenly the ominous name the desk manager, Roger, had given to this place seemed to make sense to her.

Coming to a slow stall just outside of her destination, Ria took note of the light's color just above production sound booth seven. Red. And this bright foreboding color screamed at her not to go any further. To stop. But as she awkwardly stood there, just outside of the sound booth, she began to wonder exactly how long she would be made to wait.

How long would it take...for that light to turn green?

Giving herself over to an exasperated sigh, Ria gave a swift rap of her knuckles along the door before testing the knob to let herself into the booth. As she let herself in, she found the room divided. Partitioned. The area she stepped into was smaller than she expected. And dark. So very dark. The wall immediately in front of her had a built in table top riddled with lights, gauges, switches, and buttons. Dozens of buttons. And behind that, a young man with his back turned to her, headphones donned and completely oblivious to her presence as he manipulated the dials and buttons on the table top.

And on the other side of the divide through the muffled, sound-proofed glass viewing window, was a room _filled_ with light. Light and various sound equipment such as microphones and headsets. And in the middle of this spotlit room. Beyond the glass and facing the window, perched on a stool in front of a gold laced studio condenser microphone was _him_. Kristean Mitchell. His sensitive hears covered and protected by thick padded headphones as those thin, perfect lips came practically pressed in a kiss to the microphone's pop filter. And though she had no idea what he was doing or saying, Ria could _feel_ the vibrations from beyond the sound-proofed glass created by the music pouring from the room.

"Excuse me." Ria raised her voice to announce herself and gain the young man's attention as he looked over his shoulder, a little startled by her sudden presence as he tugged his headset down.

"Excuse me?" The man quipped tersely with the furrow of his brows. "Excuse _you_." His voice came a little irked. "Can I help you?" And Ria sensed that what he had really meant to ask was what she was doing here.

"Um, yeah." Ria murmured under the young man's accusatory gaze. "I need to talk to him." A little head nod to the one behind the glass had the man's expression crumpled in mild disappointment.

"Ah." The young man behind the sound system practically grumbled in understanding. "Well..." His eyes slowly trailed the length of her body, head to toe, back to her face before he gave a little smile. "...you can't talk to him until boss-man's finished."

"Then I'll wait." Ria deadpanned unamused in response to the young tech's blatant, lecherous ogling.

"Fine with me, lady." He gave her a grin before spinning himself towards the viewing window, donning his headset once more.

Though this time he left one ear exposed to her as a possible nonverbal invitation to communicate with him if she needed.

And as the technician became absorbed in his work, Ria watched. And the more she saw, the more she became completely immersed and enamored with the man's methods. Leaning into the mic, his lips moved in a melody she couldn't make out from behind the glass. That exotic gaze veiled by thick black lashes as his head gave only the faintest bob to a beat. His level of focus so all-consuming that it was completely tangible from where he sat perched on the stool.

Yet...it was his hands that had Ria wholly captivated.

His hands moved outside of any discernible rhythm or beat. Creating intricate circles and gracefully fluid motions. Slender fingers forming purposeful shapes and signs Ria couldn't quite make out. Because, it was unlike any form of sign language she'd seen before.

"What is he doing?" She asked aloud in curiosity as an unexpected response followed.

"Hm?" The young technician grunted, his gaze intently taking in each movement of the man behind glass.

"With his hands?" Ria clarified her inquiry.

"Oh, that?" This came mumbled absently in distracted attention to her presence. "He's producing."

"What?" Ria gave the dubious quirk of her head with a raised eyebrow to the technician's back. "No he's not." She said. "He's singing." This came laced in a bewildered tone.

Because she honestly hadn't realized that he also sang.

"Actually..." The young man mused as his fingers grazed over the buttons and dials set before him. "...he's doing both." He said through a level of admiration for the man who seemed possibly ten years his senior. "At the same time."

And Ria found herself more confused than before over what he had just said. If this technician were the one behind the controls, wasn't he the one producing this music? Wasn't that how it worked? How could the band's producer be engaging in both tasks at the same time?

"Then what are _you_ doing?" Ria quipped with the shake of her head, and to her surprise the young man merely gave a sharp snorted laugh to this.

"Well..." He chuckled as his eyes came focused along the man's movements. "...according to _him_? I'm just the monkey pushing these buttons." He said as the tone of his voice turned in slight admiration towards his mentor figure. "Right now, he's telling me _exactly_ what to do...and _when_ to do it."

"Seriously?" Ria murmured, her eyes moving from the back of the technician's head to the band's music producer as he continued to communicate through the glass barrier with the complex gestures of his hands and fingers.

Painting a striking picture of a man wholly and completely incapable of relinquishing control.

"The man's a freaking genius." The young man shrugged. "I'm just here to watch and learn from the best."

Before Ria could offer a snarky retort to the young technician's overt and somewhat unattractive admiration, her dark gaze faltered along the startlingly shift in Kris' appearance and demeanor. Hands that had once moved so eloquently now clutched the thick headphones he wore as his breathtakingly handsome features came marred and violently strained under the efforts of his muffled screams into the microphone. And to her complete astonishment, the young man behind the controls began to chuckle towards this display of vocal aggression.

"Go on and just _let_ that shit out, man." He laughed to himself, seeming to have momentarily forgotten Ria's presence.

As the band's producer finally silenced his muffled screams and the vibration of the glass ceased, the thick headphones came slipped from his ears to rest along his shoulders. With a grin, the man's young protégé flipped a switch to activate the two way speaker system connecting the two rooms.

"Dude!" The young man spoke as his voice could be heard amplified in the other room. "You kiss women with that mouth?" He grinned at this jest as the producer behind the glass merely took a slow drink from the bottled water next to him as his voice came strangely disjointed and echoed through the two way sound system.

"Please." This came low and condescending along his otherwise placid features. "You know better than that, Joel." He scolded with the little smirk of a smile as the young tech just grinned back through the glass. "I reserve this tongue specifically for your mother."

"Damn, dude!" The young man behind the switchboard laughed with the shake of his shoulders and torso. "That's just _nasty_!" Ria continued to watch this degrading display as the producer merely took another drink of bottled water. "My mom's like... _really_ old, man." And the producer gave a passive hum through the sound system.

"Tell me something I _don't_ know." He deadpanned as the young man took a quick glance over his shoulder towards Ria before turning towards the viewing window once more with an almost childishly lecherous grin.

"There's some hot Mexican chick with a bangin' body here to see to you." Before Ria could chastise the technician over his egregious lack of manners, Kris' head lifted in response.

"Torres?" The seductive call of her name came curious and a bit surprised through the sound system with a narrowed squinted gaze to the glass, as if he couldn't quite see her from the contrast of light and dark between the two partitioned rooms.

"Hey." Ria finally announced herself from the booth as she was made to witness the way the sound of her voice caused that same alluring smile to blossom along the man's lips. "We need to talk." Though her response to his expression came cool and neutral, it seemed to do little to deter his obvious interest _or_ that amused little smile of his.

"Of course."

Standing himself up from the stool, the man slowly made his way to the door separating the sound booth from the production room. Opening it, he let himself in with the light. The look upon his face expressionless and giving away nothing of his emotions or thoughts as he looked from Ria to the technician, Joel.

"You headed out for the night, boss-man?" Joel asked.

Though, when he had, his eyes had been on Ria.

"Mmhm." Kris murmured this with the small nod of his head as he fished for one of his precious cigarettes and lit it.

"So hey..." The young man asked as Kris took a long, satisfied drag. "Are you ever going to actually pay me for any of this?"

The silent stare that met this question came weighted as exotic pale blue eyes gazed through a veil of smoke. A thin opaque wisp languidly crawling past his thin perfect lips as the cigarette came poised gracefully between his fingers. The small pointed quirk of an eyebrow. And more silence, before it was dispelled with a sharp hiss like the smoke that was sucked between his teeth with the deliberating breath he took.

"Tell you what..." This came lowly murmured in the quiet of the moment. "...when you can manage to operate all of this equipment without me having to hold your fucking hand..." These harsh ugly words came laced with a slight twinge of condescension and the small smirk of a smile. "...I _might_ consider paying you."

"Seriously?!" The young, star-eyed tech asked through a hopeful grin.

"No." This came a cold deadpanned response at the poor abused lackey's expense.

As he turned on his heels to exit the booth, the man glanced over his shoulder. His frigid oceanic gaze beckoning to her with a 'come hither' look and the attractive little side smirk of a smile. Calling to her with those alluring exotic eyes before ever speaking a word.

"Coming?"

And just like that, she felt that magnetic pull. The irresistible tug of her body being moved into motion. Closer to his. Like the ocean waves sent in motion by the moon's seductive siren song.

Passion.

Desire.

Longing.

Gravity.

All of them making her feel as if she were about to fall.

And all of them were emanating from a singular source.

Stepping towards him as the man made his way through the threshold and outside of the booth, Ria could hear the final amused words of the young technician in a parting shot.

"You kids have fun, now." And she could have sworn that she had heard him laugh when he said this.

As Ria followed the band's music producer out into the hallway, staring at his back, she was startled when he suddenly turned to face her. And she felt so very small underneath his gaze. Vulnerable and exposed. Naked...with the way he looked at her through a thin veil of smoke from his dwindling cigarette as it came held poised between slender fingers.

Yet he merely _stared_ at her in the silence that followed with only the faintest little smirk of a smile. Waiting, like he'd done before at the club, in order to force her hand and make her speak first.

"What?!" Ria quipped southerly towards this small show of wordless amusement.

"Funny." His voice came eerily low with the narrowing of his gaze as those eyes slowly roamed the length of her body before meeting her face once more. "Because I was going to ask the same thing."

"What is that suppose to mean?" Ria asked with the furrow of her brows as she attempted to hold his intimidating stare.

"You could have called." This came whispered in a low murmured response. "But..." He said with the faintest amused smile. "I'm glad that you reconsidered my offer of a date."

"I didn't." Ria quipped. "Which is why I didn't call." And the man seemed slightly perplexed as he asked.

"Then...why _are_ you here?" This came with the faint furrow of his brows as he took a slow drag from his cigarette, waiting for her response.

"My boss..." Ria murmured, watching the infinitesimal flecks of emotion behind the man's blue eyes as he maintained a cool impassive expression. "...he needs you to come to the Lightman Group Headquarters in DC to talk to him about the case we're investigating."

" _He_ needs?" This came a condescending scoff through a snort of smoke and narrowed squinted gaze. "What about what _I_ need?" He gave an alluring little cock-eyed smirk as that gaze briefly flitted along her body before meeting her unamused expression.

"Excuse me?!" Ria snapped in equal parts irked confusion.

"Well..." The man continued, dropping his spent cigarette as it came snuffed out from under his foot. "...if your boss is expecting to get what he wants..." His eyes thrilled with these words. "...then why can't I?" And that little smirk that had been playing along his lips turned as smug as it was absolutely stunning. "Quid pro quo, Clarice." He said with that amused simper of a smile. "Your boss sends you here to get something from me, and so I want something in turn."

Ria's mouth just gaped in absolute shock towards having heard the man _actually_ cite a fictional character who engaged in the grotesque acts of homicide and cannibalism. And he simply continued to smile in amusement at her expense towards her stunned silence before he continued. His exotic gaze ruthlessly holding her captive in this impromptu negotiation.

"And if it's really _that_ important that I go all the way to DC for this investigation..." He murmured lowly. "...It will come at a price."

"What exactly is it that you want?" Ria asked in equal parts fearful exhilaration that was only amplified by the expression that etched itself along the man's beguiling features.

"I thought you'd never ask." This came low and enticing with the almost predatory, leering glance that followed. "You see..." His words came slowed as he held her dark gaze. "...I'm really hungry." These words were completely saturated in dark innuendo. "Absolutely famished, in fact."

"And?" Ria quipped harshly with a furrowed scowl to veil her growing apprehension towards the way this man looked at her.

"And I'd like you to have dinner with me." He countered towards her irritation with another little side-smirk.

"What?!" Ria hissed in baffled confusion. "Now?!" And the man merely gave a small passive shrug.

"Why not?" He asked.

"Because!" She snapped. "It's _completely_ inappropriate!"

"Why?" This came a bit sardonically amused towards her growing discomfort. "It's just dinner. Nothing indecent about food." He said with a pointed look. "You _do_ eat food, don't you?"

"Yes, I eat food." She scowled at him as he smiled.

"Okay, then..." The man persisted, his words slowed and paced with purpose. "Why not eat some food with me?"

"Because I don't go out with people The Lightman Group is looking into." She countered bitterly.

"Pity." This came a passive hum. "Because...the way I see it..." The man mused to himself, his attention now focused along the cuticles of his furled fingertips. "...I've just been so busy with everything that's happened...I'm not sure how I could _possibly_ manage to find the time to make it out to DC anytime soon." That imposing gaze lifted from his fingers towards her face with a meaningful glance through thick black lashes.

"What?!" Ria stammered towards the look he gave her. "That's not fair!" She protested against the man's attempt to manipulate her into a dinner date as his features shaped themselves into cool indifference towards her outrage.

"No." He countered flatly. "What's unfair is the fact that your boss sent you here in order to get me to cooperate with his investigation." These words came frostily murmured as he held her gaze with an even colder stare. "I told you before, I'm not a stupid man, Torres." He said with the lowering of his voice. "He's using you to get to me." Ria absorbed this embarrassing truth like a slap to the face as her expression hardened with the purse of her full lips. "And judging by the look on your face," The man murmured as he held her petulant scowl. "you know that I'm right."

"So?" Ria spat defensively. "Your point being?" She countered bitterly towards the fact she was being played by _both_ sides, watching as the man gave a small shrug to her question.

"If he wants me to play ball that badly, I figure I might as well make it worth my time by getting something out of it." Those thin perfect lips formed into an attractive smile. "Maybe you should think about doing the same." He suggested as her gaze deviated from his face to cautiously consider what he was really offering as she fell into a moment of silent deliberation.

"Come on, Torres." This came a gentle coax to call her gaze back to him as their eyes met. "It's only dinner that I'm asking for." He whispered. "You may find that you'll actually enjoy yourself. Enjoy my company and some good food."

"And..." Ria hesitated under his penetrating, mesmeric gaze. "What if I _do_?" She whispered back, wondering to herself what might just happen then.

And the man simply offered a congenial smile towards this genuine, honest apprehension before he replied.

"Let's just see where dinner takes us."


	16. Track 15: Ghost Desires

**A/N: And I'm back! Thank you all to those who have waited for this update. And a very blessed and Merry Christmas to you all!**

 **So, I had initially wanted to get this chapter out on December 19** **th** **in order to celebrate a pretty special and significant day. But, alas, that clearly didn't happen. Pity.**

 **And another shot out and special thanks to my dear friend, GalaxyVisionary, for her assistance on this particular chapter. Because the concept and outlook of this chapter had initially been different. Very different. And when I reached out for some help and assistance with the concept, she stepped up to help like a freaking boss. So, thank you!**

 **Anyway, on a final note, I sincerely hope that you enjoy this latest installment and progression of the story!**

* * *

"Oh, I was flirting with danger here, and I knew it. This was so wrong. I could try to lie to myself all I wanted, but I'd dressed this way to entice him. I knew it. He knew it. And that tension had been crackling between us nonstop."

-Ronda Helms 'One Broke Girl'

 _..._

 _R Lounge_

 _Two Times Square_

 _714 Seventh Avenue at W. 48th Street  
New York City, New York_

Taking another small sip of her strong, decadent cocktail, Ria silently mulled over how this whole evening had actually begun. Because...when Kristean Mitchell had so spectacularly cornered her into this little dinner date...being swept away to a hotel had been the _last_ thing that Ria had expected. Though bold and uncensored, she hadn't prepared herself for the man to actually be this painfully obvious with his intentions. And a part of her had considered backing out entirely when the taxi had pulled up to the Renaissance Hotel in Times Square.

It had taken some...convincing...from her date for Ria to finally leave the safety of the New York City cab.

With him.

And it felt so very much like Alice trailing after the white rabbit as she followed him into the lobby of the Renaissance Hotel. Tumbling in a dizzying spin down the rabbit hole into the topsy-turvy world of her own personal Wonderland. And just like the fabled child, Ria too found herself quite lost as things only became curiouser and curiouser. But _nothing_ was more mysterious than the man sitting across from her.

Stealing a lidded glance to her silent date over the span of their candlelit table, Ria took in his alluring profile as he himself wordlessly gazed out the window upon the city. His incandescent features came somewhat warmed and just a bit softer in the intimacy of the lounge's low ambiance lighting . Youthful and far kinder than the brutality of his harsh, abrasive temperament. And once again, Ria found herself enamored with him and the way the candles lit his face. Casting shadows and their bewitching charm to enhance the spell of his animal attraction.

Staring at him for longer than had been safe, Ria's ogling finally gained the attention of her date. Those pale exotic blue eyes drifting from the panoramic scene of the city as the beguiling smirk of a knowing smile played along his lips as having caught her in the act of staring at him.

"Did you enjoy your salad?" He murmured with that same alluring smile as her gaze trailed from his face to her now empty plate.

"It was alright." Ria replied quietly, still not entirely comfortable with the idea of being on an actual date with this man.

Someone she hardly knew.

" _Just_ alright?" He playfully teased over the devoured meal with the small, amused raise of his brow.

"Considering the limited menu selection." Ria mumbled under her breath with a small shrug, lifting her gaze to her date when she had earned a surprisingly attractive chuckle. "What?" Her brows furrowed to his amusement at her expense as he smiled, lightly shaking his head to her.

"No one comes here for the food." He chuckled. "Everything here tastes like absolute shit." This highbrow insult towards the food came low and sardonically condescending from his lips as the furrow shaping Ria's features formed into a petulant scowl.

"Really?" And she watched as he simply smiled to her.

"Mm." He gave a lightly hummed grunt with the wordless nod of his head.

"Then why did you take me here?" Ria asked with the almost baffled shake of her head as the man's alluring smirk turned absolutely stunning through the candle's flame as he whispered from across the table.

"For the view." His expression came strangely candid as Ria's eyes drifted towards the same window the man had just been gazing through moments before.

R Lounge.

A hidden gem in Times Square at the top of the Renaissance Hotel.

Ria hadn't even known that this place existed. Because of how hidden it was the space wasn't packed, making it feel all the more intimate as the two sat near the window with their after-meal drinks. Ria with her cocktail that seemed almost alarmingly strong and catastrophically delicious as she took another slow sip of her heady drink.

She found it so strange, the lack of patrons, given that this place was right in the middle of a tourist area with an absolutely breathtaking view overlooking Times Square. The R Lounge was surrounded by floor to ceiling windows, allowing Ria the ability to see all of the lit up buildings of the iconic New York City skyline. And it made Ria feel like she were a part of Times Square without ever setting foot outside in the cold of this November evening.

The view alone was simply stunning.

"It's beautiful." This awed, breathless murmur parted Ria's lips as she continued to gaze upon the panoramic view, and she heard a low echoed whisper of agreement.

"Yes. It is." The man's open admiration drew her attention away from the impressive view of Times Square only for Ria to notice him staring directly at her instead of the picturesque city scene before them.

"I was talking about the view." Ria quipped in a soured tone as the man merely offered a titillating cockeyed smirk to this.

"So was I."

Ria suddenly felt so very self conscious and exposed underneath this man's mesmeric stare. And she found herself instantly regretting what she had chosen to wear before coming here. For him. A dark, sheer satin teal blouse with a plunging neck line, a revealing décolletage that spectacularly showcased smooth, warm russet skin and came snitched at the narrowest part of her waist. Paired with a stylish black palazzo pant that mimicked the feminine class and sophistication of a skirt. An outfit far more elegant than her normal wardrobe. One that she'd obtained with the cash signing bonus she had received from the Lightman Group while still working as a TSA agent for having passed a test she hadn't even known she was undergoing at the time.

And underneath all of this high class..?

...black lace...

And those pale exotic eyes lingered on her through the intimate candlelight, across the span of their dinner table. As if he could actually tell. Looking at her with a little smile as if she were a Christmas gift he'd stolen a peek at before she had been wrapped for him.

"...what..?" She murmured towards his off-putting stare as he gave the smallest cant of his head.

"Does my complementing you make you uncomfortable?" He asked quietly across the distance as the light danced and played along his ethereal features.

 _'...yes...'_

"No." Ria whispered back with the soft shake of her head, thick lashes fluttering against this lie as she glanced away from him.

Only to hear the faintest chortle of amusement from across the table.

"...really..." This came dubiously murmured in that low, seductive tone. "Is that so." His words came a questioning statement, subtlety challenging the veracity of her claim as rich brown eyes plunged into the frigid, unforgiving seas of exotic pale blue.

"You know..." He murmured with a wry little side smile as he held Ria's dark gaze from across the table. "...this whole entire evening, I've been trying to figure something out about you..."

"What?" Ria asked with the small furrow of her brows.

"Why it is that you dislike me so much."

" _That's_ what's stumping you?" She scoffed with the purse of her full Latina lips before taking another sip of her strong, decadent cocktail.

"I have my theories." He murmured lightly in response as he continued. "Lots of people dislike me." This came laced in an air of pride. "And..." He breathed this whispered sigh. "...more often than not, I know full well why they hate me." His cold gaze narrowed along her as he spoke. "But then...there's you."

"Well, for starters," Ria quipped bitterly as she held the man's unnerving stare. "you practically _forced_ me on this date."

"And you could have said no." The man countered lowly. "Just like you could have said no to that second drink at the club last night." He said with the faintest makings of a smug little smile playing along his otherwise impassive features. "...or the third..." Ria felt her cheeks flood with shame underneath the soul exposing gaze of her date. "Yet here you are." He gave the small cant of his head. "And with the way the two of us keep running into each other, I'm beginning to wonder what is is that you're _really_ after."

"Please." Ria scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself." She said. "I already told you that the _only_ reason I'm here is because of my work." She pointed this out as the man merely smirked towards this explanation.

"So you've said." He conceded. "But then it comes back to your disdain for me." The man said with the lowering of his voice as his eyes searched Ria's face for answers to these questions. "And somehow I really don't think it has anything to do with your job." He said with a brief pause before finishing. "It seems personal." And Ria gave a small, sardonic snort of response.

"Yeah," She quipped. "and _that_ seems a bit egotistical on your part."

"Well that's a given with me." The man laughed lightly as he held her gaze. "Though...it doesn't change the fact that I keep sensing this undeniable friction between us." He said, his voice laced and completely saturated with insinuation before he gave an amused, almost whimsical smile to her. "Not that it really bothers me, mind you." The man mused. "I've a mind hard wired for confrontation." He said as an attractively wry smile began to tug along his lips. "So I find this tension between us and your constant push back against me to be a bit of a turn-on."

And these weighted words hung in the space between them as the two silently regarded each other underneath the candle's seductive glow. One more than slightly amused over his own antics. The other filled with apprehension over her date's forwardness.

"So..." He murmured lowly, the tone of his voice simultaneously alarming as it was arousing. "You want to tell me exactly what it is that you find so terribly off-putting about me?"

"Other than your winning personality?" Ria quipped in a sardonic deadpan that earned another chortle of amusement from her date. "Why do you care?"

"I guess I really don't" The man hummed with a passive shrug. "I'm more curious than anything else." He admitted before narrowing his eyes along the features of her face, his voice laced in seriousness. "So what is it...really...that bothers you so much about me?" This came asked again as he held her gaze. "And don't tell me there _isn't_ something" He said. "...bothering you about me..." Those exotic eyes continued to search her for answers as he spoke. "Because I _know_ that there is."

And for the longest time, Ria remained silent as she felt him continue to stare at her. Watching. Waiting...for her to speak. To respond. To answer...like he had at the club. And again when she'd met him at his studio.

He waited.

And...underneath his exposing gaze...she didn't quite know what to tell him other than the truth as he watched her.

"It's the way that you keep looking at me." She murmured quietly as he regarded her with some curiosity.

"The way I look at you?" He asked as she gave a hesitant nod.

"The way you look at me feels like the way that _I_ look at _you_." Ria said, and the man gave an alluring smile to this as his eyes briefly drifted over her with a leering glance before meeting her eyes once more.

"...really..?" He said teasingly with that same wry little side smile that seemed even more potentially intoxicating than her drink as Ria scowled at him.

"Not like _that_." She quickly scolded sharply towards his lewd intimation before continuing. "It feels like you keep reading me." At this, the man's expression came genuinely perplexed as he gave the cant of his head, yet remained silent for a moment before finally speaking.

"Reading you?" The man asked as Ria gave a small defeated sigh before elaborating.

"As if, when you look at me, you actually _know_ whether I'm lying or telling the truth." She said as she watched the man give a wry little smile. "As if you've had deception training."

"Does that make me part of some exclusive club or something?" He asked, and again...Ria didn't quite know how to respond to this with anything other than the truth.

"Yes." She answered honestly, knowing how rare it was to even think that someone could be a natural at detecting deception in others.

Ria watched as poised, slender fingertips grasped the man's dwindling glass of red wine. A drink she found herself surprised to see him with for a second time. His expression came pensive towards her open admittance of what had been bothering her as his eyes lingered along the rouge liquid in the shapely glass.

"After bumping into your boss at our press conference," He murmured contemplatively to himself. "I had thought that this talent came with a doctorate."

"Usually." Ria admitted with a small nod. "Lightman spent years developing the science of reading faces and detecting lies." She said as striking pale eyes lifted to meet hers once more, their depths once again threatening to take her under their waves.

"And you?" He asked, holding her riveted in place at the table. "Did you study under him?" And immediately Ria's dark gaze dropped to the table's surface.

"No." She mumbled lightly in answer, avoiding the man's inquisitive gaze. "No education." She whispered with the infinitesimal shake of her head. "No degree."

"So...Let me get this straight." The man murmured just as quietly. "What took him _years_ to learn and perfect..." This hung upon the cusp of a breathless pause before he continued. "...you do naturally?"

Lifting her eyes from the table to delve into exquisite pale blue, Ria was suddenly flooded with memories of when she had first started with The Lightman Group. And her mind drifted to a conversation she'd once had in confidence with her colleague, Eli.

 _'How's it goin' with Lightman?'  
'Uh, he's not my biggest fan.'  
'Well, that's just 'cause you're uneducated.'  
'Excuse me?'  
'Well, you're a natural. The few naturals Lightman's come across have one thing in common: No college degree. You haven't been asked to focus on verbal skills, so you focus on body language.'  
'You're saying I can't learn the science?'  
'I'm saying you didn't have to. That's got to be irritating for a guy who spent two decades trying to see what you were born seeing.'_

"Well _that_ has to be frustrating..." This lowly uttered statement pulled Ria from her thoughts.

An echoed sentiment Eli had shared to explain Cal's early apprehension and hostility towards her when she'd first joined The Lightman Group. To make her feel better, though it had also been the truth.

"So that's what you are to him?" The man asked, meeting her gaze with that same soul exposing stare from across the candlelit table. "His little protégé." And Ria glowered over how demeaning he made this seem as he continued. "But tell me something, Torres." His voice came as open and serious as his expression with the small cant of his head. "Do you think he keeps you around to learn from him? That he wants to build you up?" He asked. "Or..." This came lowly murmured from across the table. "...is he only trying to keep you down?"

And as she held his gaze, those engrossing exotic eyes staring back at her, Ria found something so completely unexpected. Because now. In this moment, with him. Ria found a reflection of herself in him and the way that he looked at her. And as she considered his question about Cal, Ria couldn't formulate an adequate response.

Because...in all honesty...she didn't entirely know.

"Please..." Ria murmured quietly as she found the courage to avert her gaze. "...don't look at me like that." She said, her honest discomfort a simultaneous deflection of the man's earlier question about her boss.

"So is that the _only_ thing that bothers you about me?" He asked through that same alluring tone of voice. "The way that I look at you."

"No." She answered honestly as her gaze met his once more, and impassive features shaped themselves in curiosity. "It was something that you said in your meeting with Foster." Ria said, calling to mind the very first time she had met the man in his office as he now sat in silence, listening.

Waiting for her to continue.

"When you said that you didn't know if anything was bothering the musician we're looking into." Her voice lowered as she boldly held the man's gaze.

"...yes..?" He murmured through the quiet, his expression calm as he prompted her to continue in her thoughts as her brows lightly knit together with the purse of her lips.

"It seemed like you weren't being entirely honest." She finished. "As if you were hiding something." Her eyes searched his face for any sign one way or the other, to prove or disprove her intuition as he remained silent for what seemed like an eternity.

The man gave himself over to a sigh, leaning back in his seat on the exhale to better regard her from across the table. No expression along his face at all as his features came haunting underneath the candle's glow.

"So _that's_ what you really think..?" This came low and somewhat accusatory with only the faintest shift in his cool, passive demeanor. "That I lied to Gillian?"

"I _know_ that you did." Ria said, bolstering her confidence against his intimidating gaze.

"Nothing gets past you, does it?" He quipped with the narrowing of that icy gaze.

"You have _no_ idea." She muttered as they held each others gaze through a small moment of silence before she spoke again. "So..?" Ria asked with the small raise of her brow. "What is it you're not telling us?" And the man gave another slow sigh to this prompting.

"I don't know..." His voice came cold and unforgiving as he continued to lean back in his chair, staring her down from beyond the table with the raise of his brow. "...you tell me." This came touched with a level of distasteful condescension. "Better yet..." He murmured lowly through the candlelight, his cold gaze narrowing along her face. "...why don't you go right ahead and just _ask_ me what you _really_ want to know."

"Did you have _anything_ to do with the death of Aden McCaffery?" This question came blunt and bold in the face of her date's intimidating demeanor, only to be met with more silence and that stare before he slowly leaned back towards the table to draw himself towards her.

As he did so, the man's expression seemed to shift and change subtlety underneath the candlelit shadows that played themselves along his attractive features. And then...he spoke. His voice low and slowed in it's pace as he spoke with purpose.

"The kid _threw_ himself off his own balcony." These words came as heartless and cold as they were softly spoken, the man holding her gaze as she found herself instinctively leaning in to hear his voice. "So you tell me..." He gave this breathlessness whispered. "How could I _possibly_ be responsible for something like _that_?"

When Ria looked at him. _Really_ looked at him, as he had asked this question, she found that she couldn't quite distinguish from his expression if the man were actually telling the truth. His words alone, having answered her question with one of his own, was classic deflection. An indication of a lie. Yet the tone of his voice and his face appeared open. Honest. Truthful. And as she continued to search him for answers to her question, gazing upon him, it was like looking at an illustrated mirage.

Like the optical illusion of the young girl and the old woman.

Reading the man's expression under the candlelight to determine what he was _really_ telling her was like looking at that picture of the two images in one. Both simultaneously the truth. Both a subterfuge. The completed image merely an illusion that left her with one question as she looked at him.

Was he telling the truth..?

Or a seamless lie?

"I don't know..." Ria whispered this admittance as the two held each others gaze before the man spoke.

"Well then…" This came through the intimate space between them as he spoke. "That makes two of us." He said. "Unless you're suggesting defenestration." The man murmured lightly, eyeing Ria as he spoke. "... _are_ you..?" He asked this with a meaningful, pointed stare to her. "Because...if you are..." He said. "...then you're really looking into the wrong person." This came lowly uttered before the manifestation of a wry, stunning side smile played along his features. "When _I_ push people," He gave the faintest chuckle to this. "it's _usually_ metaphorical."

"No." Ria muttered quietly with the small shake of her head. "I'm not suggesting that I think you actually pushed him." This came a soft admittance as the man offered a genteel, dashing smile.

"Well that's a relief." He lightly chuckled. "It would've been a damn shame to have ended our date on that type of note." And Ria scowled at him and his smile from across the table.

"That doesn't mean that I think you're innocent, either." She countered haughtily to his teasing.

"Fantastic." The man practically purred though the smug yet seductive simper of a smile. "Because I'm far from it."

"Do you _ever_ stop?" She bitterly chided his advances as he only continued to smile.

"Mm..." He hummed passively, his eyes lingering along her as he did so. "Not until I find myself completely satisfied." His voice came a bit whimsical as he spoke, earning yet another scowl from Ria.

"You know..." She muttered, completely irritated by the man's antics. "...I could really just smack you right now." And to her surprise, the man chuckled at this show of boldness from her.

"Careful." He countered darkly with that little smile of his. "Depending on where things lead tonight, I might just let you." This caused Ria's mouth to slack attractively in utter shock, her date now openly laughing as his shoulders and torso trembled with his amusement.

"Really, Torres." He chuckled, holding her surprised expression. "You need to learn how to lighten up." This parted lips laced in a beguiling smirk of a smile before they were taken over by what little was left in the man's glass. "Tell you what." He murmured lightly, setting the elegantly curvaceous wine glass back upon the table before his gaze hit her full force. "Why don't we play a little game."

Downing the rest of her own drink far faster than was safe, Ria almost slammed the glass back down on the table as she glowered disapprovingly towards this man's antics.

"No thanks."

"Come on, Torres." The man coaxed, his voice strangely tender towards her open hostility as he gave a genteel smile. "It's a game I guarantee you'll enjoy." He said, peering at her through thick lashes, his voice dropping but a whisper now as he spoke. "...please..." And the strange sincerity of his request caught Ria off guard as she remained silent for a moment, thinking how best to respond before she gave a slowed nod of the head.

"Fine." She murmured quietly in trepidation as she finally relented to him. "What game?" At this consent, the man's smile curled upwards with her response.

"You said that you're able to look at someone and see what they're thinking?" He asked, holding her gaze as he spoke. "If they're lying or telling the truth?" This came another pointed question as he patiently waited for reply.

"Yeah." Ria answered softly with another faint nod. "Sort of. In a way"

"And..." Her date paced himself as the two regarded each other from across the table. "...you get the feeling that I can do the same?" He asked again for confirmation and clarification of what she had already admitted to him as she gave another wordless response.

"Okay then." He whispered lightly as the candle flickered along his weighted, breathy words. "Lets play." His eyes narrowed along her features as he spoke, his gaze as cold and imposing as his demeanor as he spoke. "Look at me." He said, his voice soft and quiet as he murmured this command. "Read me, and tell me what you see." This came a monotonous challenge of her natural talent with only the faintest smirk of a smile. "Then I'll look at you...and tell you if I think you're right."

Ria remained silent for a moment. Deliberating. Thinking. Considered the full weight of this man's proposition before she gave wordless consent to his terms.

Then...she waited. And watched. Looking at him as he had challenged her to do as she saw the initial, almost infinitesimal flutter of dark, thick lashes. A sign of cognitive processing before that exotic gaze lifted to meet her face once more. And she saw it, in the full weight of his ethereal features as she read him, witnessing one microexpression after another flash across his face. The man becoming an open book as she watched how he willingly exposed himself to her. Laying himself bare to the mercy of her gaze.

And...what she saw left her in a state of horrified exhilaration.

Dilated pupils.

The faint bob of his Adam's apple as he swallowed.

Lips that infinitesimally parted only the slightest with his breathless inhalation.

All signs that indicated strong, intense sexual arousal...

...for her...

Not really an emotion at all from him...but a base, instinctual animal urge. Raw...and ravenous...and demanding as he stared her down like a lethal predator having finally spotted his prey. Every single microexpression flitting across his features filled with want. As if, at this very moment, there was absolutely _nothing_ stopping him from crossing this gulf between them. From laying her against this table to have his way with her on it's unforgiving surface.

And the sheer weight and strength of his desire left Ria breathless as her heart raced in her chest. She looked away, deviating her gaze from his face to her empty glass as she heard the faintest manifestation of familiar, quiet laughter.

"I'm sensing you guessed _exactly_ what I'm thinking."

"And _I'm_ thinking this date is over." She quipped this lowly muttered response.

"You know..." This came a soft, coaxing whisper. "This doesn't _have_ to end here." She listened as the enticing sound of her date's voice filled her waiting ears. "Now."

"...no..?" Ria's delicate brows knit together as she continued to avoid his imposing exotic gaze.

"Not if you don't want it to..." He conceded lightly to her question, as if genuinely giving her the power to decide.

"What else would we do?" She quipped bitterly as her gaze lingered along the elegant table cloth, waiting for his voice to reach her again though she already knew the answer to this rhetorical question.

"...we _are_ at the top of a hotel..." He murmured. "With plenty of available rooms." This came in hushed tones as the worried furrow along her features only deepened. "...you could stay..." And at this scandalous suggestion, Ria's eyes lifted from the table to meet intoxicating pale blue as she gave her date a questioning look.

"The night?"

"Why not?" He asked in earnest.

"What is it that you want?" She bit back with that same questioning stare.

"You don't know?" He questioned with an eerily impassive expression. "I thought I had just made that pretty clear." Only the faintest makings of a smile played along the corner of his lips as he said this. "While looking at me, I had thought you saw _exactly_ what I want, Ria."

"It's Torres." Ria corrected harshly towards how this man continued to violate and blur all semblance of boundaries as he merely smiled to this.

"Oh, I think we're past that little formality. Don't you?" This came almost teasing to her irritation with him as his eyes continued to linger along her face before his voice dropped but a whisper. "So...stay."

"No." She breathed. "I can't."

"Why not?" He asked, though gave no response to indicate that he was in any way disappointed in her refusal.

As if this initial rejection had been something he had actually anticipated.

"Because..." Ria mumbled quietly, holding his alluring gaze. "...we shouldn't even be _doing_ this." And she watched how the man's gaze came momentarily veiled by the flutter of thick dark lashes as the faintest smile twitched along the corners of his lips.

"You make that sound so filthy." He breathed before opening his eyes to stare her down from across the small dinner table. "You've no idea how badly I want to hear you say that when I have you on your back."

"Please..." She finally dropped her gaze in this dangerous game that she was losing to her own personal siren of calamity. "Just stop."

"Why?" This came a quiet demand for explanation.

"This is wrong." Ria said.

And she knew, with every fiber of her being, that this was true.

"...maybe..." She heard the man murmur in a seductively low tone. "...that's _exactly_ what makes it feel _so_ right." He said as she dared to lift her gaze to his face once more. "From the first moment I saw you...I felt something between us."

"Yeah..." Ria snorted caustically towards this bold declaration. "The Lightman Group's investigation." This came a snarky comeback to the man's relentless flirtation with her, his expression remaining completely unflappable in the face of her open sarcasm as he held her petulant, rebuking glower.

"Does your boss really involve himself in your personal life to the extent of concerning himself with who you're with?"

This question momentarily threw Ria off guard. The sheer bluntness of it causing her to pause briefly in consideration before she could even come up with an appropriate response.

"...no..." She finally breathed with a defeated sigh.

The only single, honest word she could manage as she looked away.

"Then...tell me." This came a hushed whisper from across the table. "What's the harm in staying the night with me?" The man asked. "No stings attached. No expectations. No lies or false pretenses." He said, giving the briefest pause before continuing. "No mixed emotions or convoluted feelings." His words came low and enticing, "Just you..." This came another breathy whisper. "...and me..." Ria's lashes fluttered towards these words of invitation as she silently listened, holding her tongue. "Would it truly be so terrible to let your walls down for one night?" He asked lightly, his voice continuing to infiltrate the inner sanctum of her mind and thoughts. "...to allow yourself to feel me..." At this, Ria opened her eyes, her gaze drifting sidelong towards the window overlooking the breathtaking view of Times Square as she stared past her own reflection along the glass. "Would it really be the worst thing in the world if we ended up sleeping together?"

Her lips parted with the small breath she drew in to steady herself against such a forward question. And she felt the heat of embarrassment laced in exhilaration flood her face at the mere thought of becoming so intimate with this man. Such wild thoughts she found herself entertaining against her will as these primal, animalistic urges warred and raged against her better judgment. Because...the truth of the matter was that there _was_ an undeniable attraction. She knew it. Felt it. And...apparently...so did he. But this was one line she simply couldn't cross.

...not so easily...

And...not without suffering irreparable consequences.

Ones she wasn't willing to face.

...not for him...

So...biting along her lower lip to quell this fire he'd managed to kindle inside of her...Ria gave a small defeated sigh as she finally answered his question.

"Yes." She reluctantly whispered this one word response before she heard him reply quietly in kind.

"You really believe that?"

"...no..." Ria hesitated. "...maybe... "

"Little Ria...Little Ria..." The man whispered against her apprehension as she continued to look out on Times Square. "...let me in..."

"I can't." She gave the small shake of her head. "It would be a mistake." This came a faint murmur as the two fell into step in this delicate negotiation.

One leading while the other was forced to follow along as he asked the next question.

"One worth making?"

"...I don't know..."

"One you would regret?"

"Yes."

"Why?" The man persisted as another breathless sigh escaped Ria before their gaze met across the table.

"You _know_ why." Ria quipped bitterly with a small scowl to the man's question, his own brows seemed to knit together in consideration as she watched him set the pieces in place.

"Because of the case?" He asked quietly, lowering his voice with the narrowing of his oceanic gaze.

"...yeah..." Ria muttered with a small, pithy nod. "...because of the case..."

Ria watched for a moment as the man considered this. Really thought about it as he gazed upon her. His eyes searching her face for...something...as he remained quiet for a moment. Only a moment, before he spoke again, as if he had somehow found what he had been looking for.

"Would your answer be different tonight if your boss weren't looking into the kid's suicide?" The man asked bluntly, his expression stoically placid as he held her gaze questioningly. "...looking into me..?"

The two looked upon each other. Simultaneously reading the other from across the table until the man smiled at her. Merely smiled. Because...he knew Ria's answer, though she'd never once uttered a single word in response to his question. But he knew all the same. Knew her deepest thoughts and desires. The ones Ria couldn't bear to voice allowed.

That...if she weren't a part of this investigation...things tonight would be ending quite differently.

* * *

 **A/N: I sincerely hope you all enjoyed this latest update! And don't forget to review! And, as a final note, never forget to cite your sources!**

 **The mention of Ria's signing bonus is from the episode 'Pilot': Season One, Episode One.**

 **And the italicized memory between Loker and Torres came from Season One, Episode Two: 'Moral Waiver'.**

 **See you all next year!**


	17. Track 16: Ghost Confrontations (Part I)

**A/N: Seven days in! First post of the New Year!**

 **I feel like I should apologize for the slow pace of this chapter. But really, it feels unavoidable as a build up. So...hang in there.**

 **And...with this chapter I would also apologize for Kris' behavior. But...then...my remorse may seem disingenuous.**

 **And finally, thank you again to all those who have continued to read and support this story. You have no idea how much it means to me. Special thanks to my guest reviewer of chapter 16 (I honestly wish I could thank you personally!) and to Tangledupandsideways for your constant support and encouragement of my first Lie to Me story!**

 **So, without further delay, enjoy the update and don't forget to review!**

* * *

 _Lightman Group Headquarters_

 _Washington, DC_

 _Monday, November 27_ _th_ _, 2017_

Wandering down the hall towards the lab, Eli found himself wishing that he had the resolve and fortitude to come in early more often. The peaceful quiet. The calm before the storm. He found that it was _almost_ worth crawling out of the comfort of his own bed at such an unholy hour.

...almost...

But not quite.

At least, not enough to make a habit out of being here at this hour.

Though by no means a morning person, or even a Monday enthusiast, Eli found himself strangely excited over today. Odd, considering that he'd only been given Sunday off and had been so cruelly robbed of his Saturday due to Cal's blatant obsession with The Lightman Group's latest case. But then...there was Ria's date.

The one Cal had so heartlessly sent her on.

He had tried to call his colleague yesterday to find out how it had gone, but had never received an answer. And this didn't entirely surprise him. But now? Today? Well, today was Monday, and she had no choice but to be here. And Eli simply couldn't wait to ask Ria about her Saturday evening. Or at the very least tease her about it. Because he doubted that she would willingly regale him with any personal information that wasn't entirely pertinent to The Lightman Group's investigation.

But one could hope.

As he approached the main lobby on his way to the lab at the other side of the building, the smile playing along his lips began to grow until something quite unexpected took him by surprise. A voice. A male voice. One that seemed oddly familiar, but one Eli didn't immediately recognize. And then he saw it. A figure to go with the voice. But all Eli could see from his angle of approach was the man's back as he loitered in front of the display of faces at the front of the lobby. Unable to see the man's face, Eli was able to more acutely focus on the quiet, discreet conversation he seemed to be having via a wireless device.

"Yeah." Eli heard this lowly murmured from the man who apparently hadn't noticed his presence. "I'm standing in their lobby right now." He said this into the air towards the invisible person he spoke to. "I'm not sure how long this will take, so you might want to just clear my schedule for the day." Eli watched the back of the man's head as he seemed to gaze at the pictures before him. "Really? Miller wanted to see me today?" He asked, his tone seeming indifferent. "Well who the fuck set _that_ up?" Eli balked at this verbal vulgarity as the mystery man merely continued with his private conversation. "Everyone knows I don't work with Miller." He said. " _Including_ Miller." This came flat and impassively cold as he continued to speak to himself. "What should you tell him?" The man rhetorically asked the person on the other end of the line. "Well..." This came murmured lowly as he continued to conduct this conversation discreetly in the main lobby of The Lightman Group's headquarters. "I suppose you could always just tell him the truth. That I think he's a sanctimonious fuckass and that I'd never even _consider_ producing his fucking shit. Ever." He gave the breath of a pause, remaining unaware of Eli's presence as he continued to hold this disturbing conversation. "And if he doesn't like that answer, you can always tell him I said he can go suck a fuck." Eli watched in disgusted horror as the mystery guest fell silent a moment, listening to the person on the other end of the line before a light string of quiet chuckled laughter manifested with the slight shake of his shoulders in response to what the disembodied voice had said. "Well of _course_ that message would sound more convincing coming from me, Shawn." He said, his tone laced in mild amusement towards his own antics. "Which is why it's going to be absolutely _hilarious_ when it comes from you."

When Eli could no longer take this mystery man's conversation, he unobtrusively cleared his throat to announce himself. As he did so, the man paused his conversation, giving a brief glance over his shoulder before turning away towards the pictures again as he spoke to the person on the other end of the line once more.

"I've got to go." The man lowly murmured into the air. "Yeah. Someone just showed up." He said. "Finally." This came tacked on dismissively to Eli's presence. "I'll just call you when I'm back in New York." The man said before ending his conversation. "Bye, Shawn." And with fingers to the invisible device in his ear, the phone call was ended and the man turned to fully face Eli.

And as he turned, the man flashed Eli a debonair smile. Though his features and gaze were currently obscured by the opaque lenses of his designer frames, Eli found that he recognized this man. Knew of him from the endless video footage he had been analyzing for the team's investigation. The band's producer, Kristean Mitchell.

As he approached Eli, the man carried himself with a level of self-confident swagger that was impressive to Eli...considering the man's unimposing five foot eight stature. And Eli found himself more than a little jealous of the man's obvious prowess with the way he walked and dressed himself in an equally impressive custom tailored three piece suite.

"You work here?" The man asked cordially enough, though his civility seemed somewhat shallow following the conversation Eli had just overheard.

"Yeah." Eli responded, deciding to meet the man half way in his approach, watching as the man gave the slightest cant of his head with the narrowing of a squinted veiled gaze.

"They have you in a basement or something?" His eyes drifted along Eli curiously. "Because I've got to say, you have this whole dazed..." The man's hand briefly waved over his own face as he spoke. "'deer in the headlights' look going on."

Eli focused on the man's words for a moment. His voice, now unencumbered by glaring vulgarity. And with his own, brief dabbling in vocal analysis, Eli could detect the faintest touch of a New York accent. Though...not enough for Eli to easily identify the man as a native. Almost as if this regional dialect had been adopted later in life.

"Not exactly." Eli finally answered with the briefest pause as he felt his natural propensity towards honesty kick in. "But close enough." He offered as he watched the corner of the man's lip twitch in an amused smirk.

"I don't think we've met yet." The man said as he offered his hand in introduction. "Kris Mitchell."

"Yeah." Eli murmured, taking the man's hand in a brief shake. "I know who you are." As he said this, Eli watched as the man gave a slightly off-putting smile.

"Excellent." This came low through the man's smile. "I just _love_ it when my reputation proceeds me." He said. "And _you_ are?"

"Eli." He said this slowly as he felt the man stare him down. "Eli Loker."

"Pleasure to meet you, Eli." The man replied, and Eli found that this expressed sentiment seemed oddly genuine. "So..." He began again, slowly, with another slight tilt of the head. " _How_ exactly is it that you know me?" This came asked with the faintest crease of his brows in curiosity.

"Video footage." Eli answered honestly. " _Loads_ of it." He said. "Some with you."

"Ah..." The man's expression came cool and impassive as he held Eli's gaze through tinted frames. "I see." And the two silently stared each other down, sizing each other up before the man spoke again. "Well. From the look on your face, it seems like I made an impression?" He gave the small quirk of a well groomed brow to Eli.

And Eli merely gave a wordless shrug to this as the two fell quiet for a moment. Only a moment before the man spoke against this weighted silence between them.

"So...what?" This came lowly murmured from thin, perfect lips. "Does everyone here hate me?" He asked, though the tone of his voice seemed almost intrigued by this new found infamy.

"No." Eli once again answered honestly before giving the twist of a caveat. "Not everyone." And the man almost smiled at this before he asked.

"Do you?" This came a soft questioning murmur.

"From what I've seen," Eli responded slowly with a pointed stare and small raise of the brow. "I don't think you're someone that I like much." He watched as this answer seemed to cause the faintest twitch of a smirk to play along the corner of the man's lip before he gave a single approbative nod.

"Honesty." The man murmured through that passive expression before his features shifted into another broad smile. "I like that." He spoke approvingly as Eli gave a passive shrug.

"Yeah, well." This came a low hum through the hunch of his shoulders. "Not a lot of people do."

"No?" The man gave the curious quirk of the head as he spoke. "Why's that?"

"I make a point of always speaking my mind." Eli muttered this lowly, holding the man's inquisitive gaze.

"And people _don't_ like that?" The man asked slowly, his eyes searching Eli's expression through those light tinted lenses.

"Not when it's the truth." Eli answered with the calm air of self assurance as he continued with a little smile. "Like the fact that camera's obviously add like... what? Five inches?" He said with a shrug as his eyes roamed over the man's almost pretentious appearance and lack of stature. "That, and you're _way_ less intimidating in person." And to Eli's surprise this blunt, deprecating comment towards the man actually caused him to bare his teeth in an amused, suave smirk of a smile before he responded with the almost threatening drop of his voice.

"That's just because you don't know me." He quipped, engaging Eli in a predatory challenge stare as if he were an animal sizing up the competition.

"I think I know enough." Eli countered as he witnessed how the man's brows knit together infinitesimally.

"Are you always this blunt with people who just waltz into your building?" The man deadpanned with the small quirk of his brow. "Or is it just me?"

"Actually..." Eli retorted slowly towards the man's question. "...I'm this blunt with everyone." He finishes with the faintest etching of a wry smile. "I call it Radical Honestly." And Eli was once again taken aback as the man actually began to openly laugh at this.

"Radical Honesty?" The man continued to chortle towards Eli's statement. "Seriously?" He asked in that same amused tone. "You know, you should really patent that. That's actually pretty good." This came murmured through the man's stifled laughter. "I like you." He said with a charismatic smile. "You're alright, kid."

"Great." Eli grumbled sardonically under his breath. "Scoring brownie points with our _only_ person of interest." He continued this quiet lament as he muttered discreetly. "Lucky me." His words seemed to go unnoticed or ignored as the man merely turned towards the wall of faces once more.

"Is Ria here yet?" He asked casually, looking at the photos as Eli stood behind him, a befuddled expression on his face.

"Wow." Eli muttered with a narrowed, squinted gaze to the back of the man's head. "On a first name basis with her already?" And he heard the man give a passive hum to the pictures before he spoke.

"As of our date Saturday, actually." He murmured before glancing over his shoulder to Eli. "Why?" This came asked as the man donned an attractively off-putting side-smirk of a smile. "Are _you_ interested in her?"

"Well... Yeah." Eli mumbled with the small shake of the head and that narrowed squinted gaze to the man. "Are _you_? " And the man gave a little chuckle to this with that same smug cockeyed smile.

"I really don't see how that's any of your business, Eli."

" _You're_ part of this whole investigation." Eli bluntly replied, burrowing a hole into the back of the man's head with his stare. " _She's_ my colleague."

"Colleague, hm?" The man hummed monotonously as he continued to gaze at the photos on the wall. "Is that _all_ she is to you, Eli?"

"Yes." Eli answered honestly, though the truth of the matter hurt for him to admit.

Because he had always hoped for more.

Always.

"Pity." The man murmured coolly as he continued face his back to Eli. "So you two've never..." He glanced over his shoulder. "...you know..?" And the smirk playing along his handsome features was somewhat diabolical as he spoke, his question laced with indecency.

"No." Eli murmured lowly with the faint twitch of his head to the man as he watched well groomed brows knit together in curiosity.

"Why not?"

"She's my colleague." Eli swiftly retorted.

"Yeah." The man replied through a passive drawl. "You've said that." He finally turned towards Eli once more, facing him as he gave the small cant of his head. "...and..?" This came with the coaxing quirk of a brow as he searched Eli's face for the unspoken answer to this question.

"I have no chance with her." Eli murmured a little lower, causing the sharp deprecating snort of a laugh from the man's slender nose.

"Not with a defeatist attitude like that, you don't." This came condescending as the man looked Eli up and down. "Trust me, kid." His words came as serious at the expression that now shaped his face. "If you don't value yourself, no one else will."

"Are you actually telling me you think I have a shot?" Eli asked dubiously with the furrow of his brows as the man openly laughed at him.

"Hell no." The man let out another amused snort. "I'd _never_ tell you something like that, because I happen to think you're absolutely right." He chuckled disparagingly. "But my point is, that really shouldn't stop you from at least trying...and failing." Eli's lips parted to reply, but before he could formulate words, the man continued with his deleterious musings.

"I mean...this _is_ Ria we're talking about. An exotic Latina off the streets of some barrio." The man said with the lascivious stroke of his words. "A woman like that needs a man who actually knows what he's doing." He gave a condescending cockeyed smirk as he slowly eyed Eli with a pointed stare. "And not some little boy who's still trying to figure out how to work the equipment." This came a brutally insulting defamation to Eli's masculinity.

"Ria..." Her name came forth a hushed whisper from the man's lips that was swallowed by a brief moment of consideration. "Everything about her." He breathed with the infinitesimal flutter of his lashes. "The way she moves…or sits perfectly still." The man spoke, lowering the tone of his voice to fit the mood of his words. "Even the way she breathes." The faintest smile twitched along his lips as it played at the corners of his mouth. "Every inch and curve of her body, from her head to her toes, just screams 'fuck me' in large bold letters with quotations and a giant exclamation point." He gave a small pause, the smile along his lips faded as his features seemed to smooth over in a disturbingly impassive expression with little regard to the effects of these obscene, distasteful words before he whispered lightly, the tone of his voice far off and seeming almost whimsical. "Whether she wants it to or not..."

"Excuse me?!" Eli snapped harshly in absolute disgust with a disgusted narrowed gaze to the man.

"You're excused." The man murmured passively, coming stirred from his brief inattention as that veiled gaze narrowed curiously along Eli's outraged expression. "What?" He gave the cant of his head towards Eli's expression. "Did I offend you?" This came asked with the twitch of a wry smirk and the raise of a single brow. "Because here I thought you had claimed to be a bit of a truth enthusiast."

"I don't appreciate you talking about her like that." Eli quipped, brushing off the man's taunt as he protectively defended Ria's dignity and virtue.

"Come on, Eli…" The band's music producer chuckled lightly towards Eli's overt reaction of disgust. "Don't tell me you haven't thought about her that way." He teased and taunted Eli. "Or…" That veiled, predatory stare relentlessly searched Eli's expression. "…is it only okay for _you_ to express those thoughts..?" He asked pointedly, his tone mildly amused beneath a startlingly cool impassive expression. "Because…if _that's_ the case then your so-called 'Radical Honesty' is a bit hypocritical, don't you think?"

The two wordlessly stared each other down as this heavy-handed question hung in the air unanswered. Wrapped up and swallowed by an all consuming, weighted silence. A silence so physically tangible, it made itself real. An entity, fully alive in its own right. The invisible, omnipresent spectator to this social interaction that beard a startling resemblance to arson.

But Eli couldn't respond.

...wouldn't...

Not this question.

Not about Ria.

And certainly not with this man.

Though Eli had himself expressed interest and a desire...granted, sometimes tactlessly...to become physically intimate with Ria, these discussions had always remained between the two of them. Most of the time. Unless Cal had come around the corner. Because, despite his attraction to her, Ria was still his colleague. A coworker he both respected and admired.

And...she was also his friend.

Yet this man seemed to hold such little regard for her with the way he so carelessly voiced his thoughts to another man. Every despicable word uttered seeming so strategically molded for use as a weapon. So Eli remained quiet towards his affection for his colleague. His friend. But as the silence persisted and stretched along this moment, a sudden, sharp exclamation rent the air and drew the attention of both men towards it's source.

The source of the sound.

And...the source of their conversation.

"Hey!" Ria hollered from several paces away as she stalked her way towards the two men before she gave pause, eyeing Eli suspiciously.

"Loker..?" Her delicate brows furrowed with the call of his name, her features etched in baffled concern. "Everything okay?" The two gazed at each other before another voice, lower and lacking in warmth responded in Eli's stead.

"Everything's fine." This came lowly murmured from the lips of the band's music producer as Ria's dark gaze moved away from Eli's face to meet that of Kristean Mitchell.

"…and you..?" Ria's voice manifested harsher than she had initially intended as she glared at the man, taking him by the bicep to lightly pull him away from Eli's space and away from the lobby as he grinned towards being man handled by her. "What are you doing?"

"You invited me, remember?" He replied casually as the two finally stopped in the nearby corridor out of earshot, Eli watching from the sidelines in the lobby. "To talk to your boss." This came as clarification, the two holding each others gaze as he continued to speak in hushed tones to her. "I made an appointment. But I decided to arrive early to check this place out. That..." He gave a breathless pause, lips infinitesimally parted to allow the small inhalation and soft words that followed. "…and I wanted to see you."

"That's _not_ what I meant, and you know it." Ria retorted in an irritated hiss. "I know _why_ you're here." She quipped bitterly. "I asked you what you're _doing_." Ria asked him again, her eyes searching his face before she whispered in a low murmur. "What did you just say to Loker?"

"Eli?" The man asked, giving the faint furrow of his brows to Ria before glancing over his shoulder, her gaze following where his lead.

And as he met Eli's protective stare, the man flashed a frighteningly wide, forced smile unseen by the woman. Baring his teeth before his alluring features fell lifelessly expressionless and he turned to Ria once more.

"Nothing…" He answered in a monotonous drawl as he held her accusatory glare. "I was just introducing myself."

"Then why does he look like he just saw you kick a puppy?" Ria quickly countered, her eyes darting along his face in search of answers as he loosed a faint string of short lived laughter before it died along his lips

"I have that effect on people." The man murmured lowly with the makings of a small, wry smirk of a smile. "Must be my 'winning personality'." His voice dripped with sarcastic intonation as he smiled at her. "So…" He whispered, eyeing her through those designer lenses as he gave the small quirk of a single brow. "...shall we?"

"Yeah..." Ria gave a hesitant nod to the man's coaxing before she glanced over towards Eli once more, taking in his almost dejected expression. "Loker." She called to him as the two gazed at each other. "Tell Lightman he's here?" This came asked as Eli gave a slow nod before the two of them departed, Ria leading the man along as he glanced over his shoulder to meet Eli's concerned gaze once more.

The turn of the head.

A smile.

That mesmeric veiled stare.

And two words utter just loud enough that Eli could hear.

"Later, Eli."

With this antagonistic farewell Ria lead the man away from the lobby towards the building's main computer laboratory. As the two entered the large, spacious lab the first thing that came into view was a slightly smaller, partitioned glass room. More of a large box, really, placed in the room like an elaborate centerpiece.

"Hm..." This came a low, passive hum from the man as he stared at the room within a room. "Not exactly what I had expected."

"Surprised?" Ria asked quietly as the two found themselves alone once more as the man chuckled.

"No." He said, continuing to gaze at the box. "Not really." This came uttered through the silence and the faintest smirk of a smile before he turned to her. "As a rule, I try not to be surprised by much of anything." The two fell into a strangely comforting silence as they looked upon each other, Ria feeling the flush of her cheeks towards the way he looked at her before she cleared her throat.

"Lightman's going to be here soon," She whispered, looking away from him as she spoke. "so you should probably just head in."

"About that..." She heard his voice as it called for her attention through the quiet of the room. "I'm not sure how long this will take, but..." He gave a small pause, waiting for her to look at him before he spoke again. "I was wondering if you might be available for drinks after work tonight."

"Seriously?" Ria hissed.

"Come on." The man countered coolly to her blatant irritation over his persistence with the faintest makings of an attractive smile. "Our last date wasn't _that_ terrible, was it?" He asked, searching her face as his own expression seemed so strangely candid as he waited for reply.

"No..." Ria sighed. "I guess not." She said as she held his gaze. "Though I think I could have done without you trying to get me into bed." And the man chuckled towards her open honesty with him.

"What can I say." He smiled congenially, though his eyes seemed to completely devour her. "I'm a man who knows what he wants. You can't fault me for that." This came so confident and self-assured as his gaze narrowed along her face. "So..." This came a breathless murmur. "What do you say?"

"To _just_ drinks after work?" She asked pointedly as she watched an alluring smile dance along his lips before he responded.

"I can't promise that's _all_ I want." He said. "But it's a start, if you're interested." His expression remained stoic as the two held each others gaze before he continued. "And I promise that I'll only go as far as you let me."

Ria looked away. The first, once again, to relent under this strange staring match of theirs. Overwhelmed and shamefully flattered by how fiercely this man pursued her. It was alarming. It was exhilarating. That...through his eyes...she was a woman worth pursuing.

"You really should go." She mumbled, looking away as she gave a head nod to the glass room. "He'll be here any minute."

"Will you at least think about it?" He asked, patiently waiting for her answer before Ria gave another light nod of the head.

"Yeah." She whispered lightly, continuing to stare at the glass room. "I'll think about it."

"Excellent." The man hummed victoriously. "It'll give me something to look forward to when this whole thing is over."

As Ria watched the man move away from her towards the transparent interrogation room, her eyes helplessly followed. Watching...as he entered. A performer set on a spotlit stage. Or...a fighter having just entered the ring. Removing his lenses to set them along the metal table inside the room as she observed him surveying his current surrounding like he were completely alone. As if he believed she couldn't see him acclimating himself in this pellucid cage until the full force of his cold exotic pale blue gaze landed upon her, taking her breath away.

His magnetic stare forcefully commanded her body towards the outer glass as he too, stepped to the edge. The two separated by this invisible barrier between them as the man stared down at her from his elevated position. His expression stoic. Unreadable. His eyes peering straight through her before he began a strange pace as Ria subconsciously move with him. Like two magnets drawn to each other. One trailing the other. Ria watching him as he watched her in turn, walking towards the edge of his cage before dropping to his haunches to come eye-level with her. Their bodies and faces speaking for them in this silence as he watched her place a hand along the glass to lean closer. The two mere inches from each other, as if absolutely nothing lay between them before the glass walls became solid and impenetrable to the human eye.

As the glass turned an opaque white, and Ria disappeared, the man lifted from his crouched position to turn towards the source of this intrusion. His silent gaze wordlessly regarding the one who had just entered the room with him.

"I'll ask you not to muck about with my staff, yeah?" This came blunt in a heavy British accent from the lips of Cal Lightman as he walked over to the provided table, placing down a bottled water for the man before somewhat roughly unburdening himself from the thick classified file he had brought with him.

The sound of it being placed along the table's surface resonated in the confines of this glass room as the two men stared each other down, the man's eyes moving from the file to Cal's face. Neither one spoke as Cal placed either hand on the table's surface to lean forward, eyeing the man with that soul exposing gaze of his for a moment before pushing himself straight.

"Right then." He said, his voice crisp and expression aimed towards getting down business as he commanded the space and this man's attention with two words.

"Sit down."


	18. Track 17: Ghost Confrontations (Part II)

**A/N: Guess who's back. Back again. Queenie's back. Tell a friend. Oh...wait. Did I really just do that? Pull a Marshall on y'all? Then...welcome. 'Cause it's about time y'all met the real me. Not Slim Shady. 'Cause I am, whatever you say I am. If I wasn't, then why would I say I am. On fanfiction, and press, everyday I am. The net don't even wanna play my jams. Oops... I did it again. Sittin next to Britney Spears. Christina Aguilera better switch me chairs. And Doctor Dre said... Nothin, 'cause Doctor Dre's well...you get the point.**

 **And...I digress.**

 **First and foremost. Thank you ALL for your patience and continued support through this delay in an update. Even without a recent chapter, I've seen you all continue to read and review this story. And...honestly...it humbles me to speechlessness. This chapter has suffered a revision. Writers block. Yours truly having fallen ill. Twice. And the business of life in general.**

 **Thank you to all who have continued to read and review this story. It means the world to me.**

 **Special thanks to StingInRepair, who aided me in more ways than one with this chapter with her warmest support and insightful criticism in a second pair of eyes and an objective opinion. That, and her push for me to finish this bear of a chapter. I mean it when I say that this chapter would not have happened without you.**

 **And another special shout out to Tangledupandsideways, for your companionship outside of this story! You, my friend, are absolutely delightful.**

 **Finally, thank you to Fandom Angst. I couldn't have this author's note without mentioning you. My more depraved half. Who so willingly followed me from the Fruits Basket fandom to Lie to Me. Thank you for your love and support, my friend.**

 **And, with out further ado. Here's the next chapter of Subliminal Messages.**

* * *

"Right then. Sit down." This command came firm and resolute from Cal's lips through a distinctive British drawl, gaining the man's attention as he pivoted away from the glass wall with the raise of a single brow.

And Cal appraised the man as a frigid, oceanic gaze regarded him in turn. He took in the man's body language and the way he stood. Legs slightly apart in a subtle pelvic display towards Cal. A show of male dominance with his feet planted firmly to where he stood as he wordlessly held his ground. An open, fearless stance that made a clear statement that he had absolutely no intention of leaving the room. A dominance signal that Cal wasn't entirely sure the man himself was aware he was giving off, so he decided to test the waters.

"You spoiling for a fight there?" Cal asked, his voice steady and unwavering with the intent of this question as the man gave the cant of his head to this, slowly interpreting these words in his mind before responding.

"I don't know." This came somewhat caustic in a flippant response. "Should I be?" And Cal gave a knowing, cockeyed smirk to this reply.

So the man's subtle, posturing body language wasn't _entirely_ subconscious.

The two stood silent a moment, across the room from each other. The man wordlessly regarding Cal as he openly ignored the directive to come forward and sit. Coming moved only when _he_ had finally chosen to do so.

Slowly crossing the small distance between himself and the table, the man's body seemed calm. At ease. Cool and confident in his surroundings and with Cal's suddenly announced presences. Even the expression along his dark, captivating features was almost unnervingly impassive to this intrusion and Cal's demand to sit.

Everything about the man's body language was collected in his approach. Everything...except his eyes. Those exotic, pale oceanic eyes regarded Cal now through an agonistic, threatening stare. A sign of aggression...

In animals.

And those eyes never once deviated from Cal. Not even when the man found the chair as he slouched himself in it, his legs apart in such a way as to blatantly display his dominance right in front of Cal. Again. In Cal's domain, as if subconsciously marking this territory with his body language as he blatantly ignored the gift of bottled water meant for him. And as Cal followed, and sank eye-level into the chair across the table from the man, he set himself about the task of discovering the truth.

Because...people lied.

Everyone.

 _Everyone_ lied.

But the face?

The face _never_ lied.

Ever.

No matter how hard one tried to hide the truth.

No matter what one actually _said_.

...or _didn't_ say...

The face never lied.

So Cal was silent a moment, sitting across the table from this man. The band's music producer. Watching him. Studying him. Regarding the way this man so openly stared him down before finally speaking in the wake of Cal's silence.

"You've gone to an awful lot of trouble just to get me here to talk to you." The man murmured coolly. "I mean, using Ria like that to entice me to come meet with you." He said with the faintest twitch of a sarcastically condescending smile.

And there it was. Just beneath the surface of this man's words and that smile. A familiar sense of cocky arrogance that Cal had once faced before. In this very room, in fact. An indomitable air of almost malicious antagonism that he'd come across in another by the name of Andrew Jenkins. A sociopathic serial rapist and charismatic pathological liar. A predator. A monster in the truest sense of the word.

And a brilliant, dark tactical mind difficult to contend with.

Though Cal couldn't be certain just yet about any nefarious intent with _this_ man sitting before him, he simply couldn't brush away this feeling. That same animalistic, predatory nature. So Cal decided to test the depths of this uncanny similarity with his approach to bolster the man's confidence and lower his defenses. And in order to do _that,_ he would have to mirror and reflect the man's demeanor, and meet him at his level.

So...he did.

"Yeah..." Cal murmured with a cockeyed smirk. "I did that." He watched the man absorb this unrepentant admittance towards having used Ria to lure him out. "Did you like it?" This came asked through that smirk of a smile as the man offered a passive shrug from across the table.

"What wasn't to like?" This came on the cusp of a dark chuckle. "She's a hell of a carrot to dangle." An off-putting smile lifted and curled along thin, perfect lips. "I can see why you keep her around."

"Best I've got, mate." Cal conceded honestly to Ria's natural talent and budding expertise in detecting deception before he gave a smug smirk of his own. "But I'm better."

"So what exactly is it with you two, anyway?" The man asked bluntly through that odd, predatory stare from across the table, seemingly unimpressed by Cal's declaration. "She seems awfully eager to do whatever you say." As he said this, both men continued to openly ignore the proverbial elephant in the room.

The large, imposing classified file on the table next to Cal.

"Oh that?" Cal replied with another little smirk, smugness in his voice. "She's just wanting me to teach her everything I know, right?" He said through the thick British accent he possessed and an unabashedly cheeky grin. "Like a little sponge, she is."

"Really..." The man murmured lowly towards the idea of Ria being so willingly malleable. "And how's that working out for you?" He asked, and Cal merely gave another shrug with that same cocky smirk.

"Still got _loads_ up my sleeve to keep her motivated, yeah?" Cal answered the man's question, allowing the illusion of control as he let him direct this conversation as he gave a brief, momentary pause before continuing. "But what about _you_ , then?" This came asked with the raise of a single brow. "You got anyone that trainable, or am I making you a bit jealous over there?" And the man's expression remained stoically impassive to this leading question as he briefly looked away, seeming almost bored with this.

"Not really." He flatly deadpanned this obscure response that didn't really answer either point of Cal's question.

"What about that woman of yours, aye?" Cal persisted. "Your um...band manager? What about her, hm?" He continued in poking and prodding the man for any form of reaction.

Anything at all, as the man's frigid oceanic gaze met his once more.

"Shawn?" This name came spoken with the almost imperceptible inflection of his voice, the very edged of the corner of his lip lifted in response as he gave the faint jerk of his head to the question. "No." He murmured lightly, holding Cal's inquisitive stare. "She's too smart for that."

Meaning...that the two were already so completely enmeshed with each other that the man felt little need to manipulate the woman. She was already wholly adept in meeting his every need.

"Yeah." Cal mused in agreement, siding himself with the man. "But she's bloody loyal though. Isn't she." And that budding smirk crept itself a little further, playing along the man's lips. "To a fault?" He asked in response to that smug smirk as the man remained silent, giving only a wordless shrug in reply.

Yes.

The answer...as silent as it was...had been yes.

The woman was completely loyal to this man. Devoted, even, Cal suspected. Emotionally invested in a man who was, most likely, emotionally unavailable.

But...maybe the man kept her hoping somehow. Maybe. That there might one day be the possibility of a deeper relationship with him.

It was classic, if not a bit sad. And Cal had seen it before.

"I mean..." Cal finally broke the brief pause in the conversation as he continued. "...it was bloody brilliant." He said, lowering his voice with an almost playfully cheeky smirk. "The way she stepped in to defend you like that, yeah?"

"It's why I like having her around." The man replied nonchalantly. "She's...useful...in navigating convoluted situations like the one your little group caused at the press conference." He gave the faintest smirk of a smile. "It's why the studio has her handling public relations for the people we sign to our recording label."

"Those, uh, the _only_ kind of relations she's handling?" Cal gave the waggle of his eyebrows, making the intent of this question obvious to the man before he continued lowly. "So...exactly how angry _was_ she?" He asked, pacing his words as the two stared each other down from across the table. "You know..?" This came with the slightly dramatic wave of a hand. "When I brought to light you're guys' little office romance?" And Cal watched the man consider this for a moment as an almost genuine smile briefly played itself along his thin, perfect lips before he responded.

"Pretty angry."

"Oh yeah?" Cal grinned, sensing that this topic of discussion was finally working to lower the man's innate hostile resistance. "Should I send her an apology card, then?" And he could see how the man bit along his lower lip to stifled his amusement over this, as if he were coddling some little secret.

"No." The man lightly chuckled with the shake of his head as he casually averted his gaze, his eyes drifting elsewhere along the table. "Don't bother." He said with a little smile. "You actually did me a favor." And Cal gave the cant of his head to the man.

"I did?"

"Mm." The man hummed passively through a smug, cockeyed smile. "The sex is always better when Shawn's completely pissed."

And again...Cal received another, brief glimpse. As fleeting as it was. In the man's expression, body language, and what he'd just so tactlessly disclosed to Cal. That there was a bit of savagery in _everything_ this man did. Including sex. That he sometimes used his lover's emotional volatility as a catalyst to initiate and engage in rough intercourse with her. Cal suspected that this man sometimes even antagonized and provoked the woman to anger himself, purposefully, in order to satisfy his own needs in achieving this somewhat unseemly goal.

Unseemly...yes. Possibly a form of sexual deviance. And most certainly _more_ than a little morally questionable. But...not necessarily illegal.

"So..." The band's music producer continued with the furrow of well groomed brows, seeming to have noticed the way Cal was staring at him. "What about _you_?"

"What _about_ me?" Cal asked with a casual shrug as he hunched himself over the table to prop his chin in his dominant hand, meeting the man's questioning gaze.

"You and Gillian..." He murmured lowly with intent, staring Cal down from across the table with that same questioning look. "The two of you..?"

"I'm British, mate." This came through a puffed sigh and the arch of his brows as Cal gave an almost whimsically entertained look to the man. "We never kiss and tell, yeah?"

"Come on, Cal" The man murmured Cal's name through an alluringly off putting smirk. "I showed you mine..." He said in reference to what he had disclosed about the woman he worked closely with as he stared Cal down from across the table, his voice lowering a bit as he continued. "Only fair that you show me yours."

And with the way this man looked at him, Cal suddenly felt as if he had stepped from an interrogation right into a dangerous game of poker. Where Gillian had just become the ante and Cal was being made to put up or shut up. Though, if Cal were honest with himself, he loved the thrill of this game. The high stakes. The gamble. The risk.

"I mean...she's a psychologist, right?" This came asked with the faintest lift of the corner of the man's lip. "So the sex's _got_ to be off the hook." And Cal leaned himself back in his seat, mirroring and reflecting the man's body language as he continued to watch the man's defenses lower.

But, could he really use Gillian this way? Bluff with a hand he didn't have...and win.

Could he?

...should he..?

Was it really worth the risk? Humoring this man in order to find out what he was hiding in regards to this investigation?

Because the man was hiding _something_. That much was for certain. And, Cal had his theories. But wasn't sure on exactly what. Not yet. But with the way this man now actively attempted to engage him. The way he now sought reciprocal communication with Cal, rather than to purely dominate the conversation. His defenses were lowered with this desire to have Cal speak. Respond. Share.

As if the two were merely old friends. Seasoned veterans. Battle tested in their sexual prowess, swapping war stories of their individual conquests. The man had regaled Cal with his own tale, and now seemed to expect one in turn. The only question was how far Cal should go to appease this man in order to eventually tear him down. What lengths would he go to? How far down would he stoop into the mud and filth in order to find out why.

Why the promising young musician had so spectacularly ended his own life.

And why the man sitting in front of him seemed mysteriously involved somehow.

Because in the time the the two had been sitting together in this plexy glass interrogation room the man had never _once_ brought up or even _mentioned_ the reason for him being asked here. That...and he hadn't so much as looked at, let alone asked about, the thick classified file Cal had brought with him once it had been placed so plainly out in the open.

And just like the question of his relationship with Gillian, Cal saw that this man was merely biding his time. Waiting for Cal to bring these things up first.

"So exactly how kinky _is_ she in the sack?" The man asked, drawing Cal's attention back to the way he smiled and stared...waiting.

Coaxing Cal to come out and play.

"Mm." Cal shrugged with a creeping grin of his own as he spoke, eyeing the man before him. "It's all about the mind games with that one, mate." He gave the flippant wave of his hand, humoring the man as he watched the faintest twitch lift the corner of his lip.

"Really?" This came with the dubious, yet intrigued lift of a single brow as those pale exotic eyes searched Cal's face.

"Oh-yeah." Cal responded casually as he watched this man watch him from across the table. "She..." He slowed his pace as he exhaled with the strategic folding of his arms along his chest. "...knows tricks that'd make a young pup like you blush." And, exactly as he had expected, Cal saw the man slowly absorb these details that were fed to him with the spread of a growing smile displaying teeth before he began to laugh.

Which Cal _hadn't_ actually expected.

And the unsettling sound of it filled the glass room as it rocked the man's shoulders and torso before it began to fade and subside.

"Cal..." This came on the breath of a chuckle. "...Calvin..." He chided lowly, slowed in a somewhat mocking tone with the amused purse of his lips as his gaze narrowed along Cal's face. "Now you're just fucking with me. And well..." These words came a whimsical sigh through the growth of a smug smirk. "...that's just not very nice, now _is_ it?" And Cal knew then, from the look etched upon the man's face, that he'd been found out.

The man had managed to see through this lie over the misleading representation of the nature of his relationship with Gillian. His bluff had failed.

"So you saw through that, then?" Cal asked in response to the man's obviously amused expression.

"A while ago, yeah." The band's music producer offered this up coolly, his expression stoic as he finally put an end to the little game he'd been playing at Cal's expense.

"Right, then." Cal retorted, holding the man's unnerving stare. "Leading me right along there, were you?" And only the briefest lift at the corner of the man's lip on his otherwise passive expression gave away how much fun he'd actually had before he responded with a casual shrug of the shoulders.

"I wanted to see exactly how long you could go on making a complete ass out of yourself." He admitted as he stared Cal down from across the interrogation table that separated them. "It was impressive."

"Oh yeah?" Cal gave the raise of a brow and a tight-lipped expression. "Manipulative little bastard, aren't you?" And again the man chuckled, though more subdued than his earlier laughter.

"Bastard?" The man gave the alluring side-smirk of a villainous smile. "Absolutely. In every possible meaning of the word." He gave pause, looking Cal up and down with those frigid, oceanic eyes for a moment before they narrowed along Cal's face one more. "But manipulative?" This came asked with the faintest shrug and purse of his lips over another brief pause of consideration he gave this second word. "I'd like to think that I'm relatively straight forward." He said as he sized Cal up with that startlingly exotic yet off-putting gaze. "You, on the other hand, not so much." Cal gave the high arch of his brows to this observation from the man as a smirk met his expression in response. "Come on, Cal." The man murmured lowly with the confidently slouched yet poised posture of his body in the seat he owned with every inch of himself. "Playing like we're old friends? You really thought that would work?" He gave the infinitesimal furrow of his brows. "Seriously?"

"Couldn't hurt trying, mate." Cal shrugged, allowing this man the small victory of having found him out.

"Well..." This came a passive hum of a sigh through the man's lips. "If there's one thing I've grown to become keenly aware of..." He said with the narrowing of that cold frigid gaze along Cal's features. "It's when someone doesn't like me." His word came as unnerving as that stare of his. "And _you,_ Cal?" Only the faintest lift of the corner of his lip in amusement changed his otherwise stoic expression before he spoke again. " _You_ don't like me."

"That bother you?" Cal asked as the man lightly shook his head.

"No." The man admitted honestly. "I could really give a shit what you think of me." He bluntly stated with a straight-faced expression. "But it _does_ make me wonder..."

"Wonder about what?" Cal questioned.

"Why you've decided to take this so personally." The man stated.

"What makes you think that, mate?"

"Please." This came an almost condescending snort. "It's pretty obvious."

"Oh yeah?" Cal murmured with a hard stare. "Well..? Go on then." This came in challenge with the thrust of his chin. "Enlighten me. What is it that's so bloody obvious?"

"From the moment we met in my lobby after the press conference, I could tell that you were too close to this."

"Yeah, well..." This came a tight-lipped response. "The Lightman Group tends to get all up in arms over a kid offing himself, right? So suddenly, too, yeah? After having achieved the fame others only dream of."

"No." The man quipped with the twitch of his head as a moment of silence befell the two men, exotic pale blue eyes searching Cal's face before he spoke again. "I don't think so." He said with a little smirk. "I think they're all in this for _you_. So what are _you_ in this for. Hm, Cal?" His brows knit together with the faint shake of his head. "You see...I think everyone else around here is invested in this little incident because _you_ are." This came a pointed accusation with the infinitesimal lift of the corner of his lip. "And I think you've made this personal."

"Yeah." Cal admitted with the characteristic side-bob of his head. "Maybe you've got a point." He said. "Maybe I _have_ made this personal." He eased himself towards the man, leaning into the table to close some of the space between them as he stared him down. "Why haven't _you_?" He asked pointedly "You worked with this kid for over four years, yeah? Knew him?"

"Yeah." The man quipped in a flat monotone with the raise of a well groomed brow towards Cal's show of intimidation. "...and..?" He challenged.

"And he just jumped off his balcony, mate." Cal muttered, eyes to the table's surface in a moment of contemplation as he fingered the small piece of glossy, sleek paper in the pocket of his blazer. "I mean, this kid had absolutely _everything,_ right? Fame. Money. A sweet girl who was absolutely mad about him." He removed the small, precious object from his pocket, placing a photograph of the deceased face up as he slid it into the middle of the dead space between them.

The one that the musician's girlfriend had given him after his presentation at the suicide prevention conference in Nevada.

"So..." His voice lowered with the seriousness of his next question as his gaze lifted from the picture of the sullen young man. "...why go and off himself?"

And as suddenly as it had appeared, it was gone. The brief display of teeth in a sneer that suggested an uncontrollable raging anger being held back inside as the man looked at the photograph. So subtle that, had he not been looking directly at the man in that moment, Cal might have missed it.

"Oi!" Cal raised his voice sharply, causing the man's gaze to snap up from the photo on the table. "That make you angry?" And a genuine expression of confusion briefly flashed along the man's features towards this question.

"What?"

"I said...does that make you angry?" Cal repeated this question a bit louder and more slowly, as if addressing the hearing impaired.

"I'm not angry." The man muttered coolly.

"Bullocks." Cal countered. "You were absolutely livid just a moment ago. Couldn't hold it in." He said, eyeing the man across the table. "It was all over your face, mate." This came with a small pause as Cal invasively searched the man's face. "Was it this photo?" He asked bluntly, leaving little room for the man to actually respond before firing off the next. "...or the girlfriend..?"

"Please." The man uttered lowly in a smooth tenor laced in condescension. "I don't know what you _think_ you just saw...but I couldn't have cared less about the kid's personal life."

"Then...what was it for you that got you all hot and bothered?" Cal asked before he gave a shrug. "I mean...other than the kid killing himself and all."

"Look." This came breathed through the man's lips. "Shit happens." He stated with all the effectiveness of a slap to the face before he continued. "This industry's _filled_ with eccentrics who have absolutely everything. They wake up one day and just decide to kill themselves. It's not a new phenomenon, no matter _how_ shocking."

"Suppose not." Cal muttered in response with the exaggerated cant of his head. "That why you don't seem surprised he did it, mate?" He asked. "Didn't seem all that surprised at the press conference, either. Just saying." And the man's lips curled at the corners in the faintest makings of a smug smirk.

"As a rule, I try not to be taken by surprise. And certainly not over this." He said, indicating the young musicians suicide.

"Why?" Cal asked with the furrow of his brows to this statement. "Is it because he told you he was going to do it?" The man gave the lightest shake of his head.

"No."

"So he didn't let on that he was feeling suicidal." Cal repeated himself as he methodically gauged the man's every response and reaction.

"Not with me, no." The man responded, his answer seeming truthful, his features lacking any overt indication of deception.

So the young man hadn't told him he was going to commit suicide.

But...

"But you knew, yeah?"

And another little smile played along the man's otherwise impassive features.

"...maybe I did..." He said. "Then again, maybe I didn't. But I really don't see what difference it makes." This came with a pointed look. "I mean...anyone who saw him could tell." He stated almost casually with an air of indifference.

"Oh-yeah." Cal immediately agreed as he stared the man down. "Absolutely, mate." This came emphatic with the dramatized side-bob of his head. "He was completely off his nut, right? I mean..." He pointed his index finger to his temple and twirled it to indicate a nonverbal gesture for insanity. "...totally bonkers, yeah?"

"I wouldn't know." This came an unamused, monotonous deadpan from the man's lips as he gave himself over to a passive shrug. "But it was pretty obvious that the kid had issues."

"But he didn't say _anything_ about wanting to kill himself?" Cal repeated again as he searched the man's face for answers he might be hiding.

Secrets.

Lies.

"No." The man retorted flatly. "He _didn't_ say anything about wanting to kill himself."

...and there it was...

"Oh..." Cal breathed. "Oh, well that's bloody good." A knowing grin began to play and spread along his lips as he spoke. " _That_...was brilliant, yeah?" He pointed his finger to the man. "With the way you just answered that. Bloody clever, you are." This caused the man's dark, well groomed brows to furrow. "No, really. I mean it." Cal said towards the man's disbelief. "You're _so_ smart." This came a bit dramatic as he spoke. "Smarter than all us wankers, just stumbling about. Taking up space, right? I mean...compared to _you,_ right, all the rest of us are just bloody idiots. Morons." He said as he carefully watched and read the man's every reaction. "I honestly don't know how you manage a conversation without laughing your ass off, mate."

"Is _that_ what you think of me?" The man murmured through an air of condescending smugness.

"Me?" Cal asked with the twitch of his head and pinched brows. "No." He quipped. " _Bloody_ hell no." He said with the cant of the head and narrowed gaze as he jutted his finger towards the man. "That's what _you_ think of yourself, mate." And the man seemed truly taken aback, for a moment.

Only a moment, before his features smoothed themselves into another expression of passive indifference.

"So you want to try that answer again?" Cal asked with the quirk of a brow as the man let out a snort of amusement.

"If you're wanting answers, start asking better questions." He retorted in challenge.

"Right." Cal said, slumping himself back in his seat. "So, you said that he never told you he wanted to off himself, yeah?"

"That's what I said." The man quipped coolly through a steady gaze and expression.

"Right then..." He gave a bit of a pause in his words. "You want me to ask better questions? Try this one on for size, right?" He said through a taut, almost stern expression. "What was it he _did_ tell you, hm?" This came blunt in accusation. "Cause..." He held the man's icy gaze in a challenging deadlock stare. "I _know_ he told you _something_."

And Cal knew then... Knew without a doubt, that he now had the man exactly where he wanted him.

* * *

 **A/N: The reference to Andrew Jenkins comes from Season One, Episode Twelve "Blinded".**


	19. Track 18:Ghost Confrontations (Part III)

**A/N: I'm a huge fan of irony. Love it. But painfully blatant irony is, at its very best, an absolutely _terrible_ literary tool. That is...unless...one of the characters just so happens to mention exactly how painfully blatant the ironic situation has just become. Then it's all good. Fact.**

* * *

 _"The truth is rarely pure, and never simple."_

-Oscar Wilde

"Excuse me, can I help you?" The Lightman Group's secretary, Anna asked.

"Oh, um... Yeah, actually." The young woman's voice came soft has she gave a small, polite, but almost superficial smile in her approach to the tall desk of the open lobby.

Her movements towards Anna were shy, as if she felt out of place in this building. Yet she still managed to walk with a level of confidence in herself. In who she was. To call the young woman, seemingly in her mid twenties, petite would have been a gross understatement to say the very least. But...something about her immediately dew the eye. Even through the timid apprehension shaping her features, she was soft. Everything about her was soft, and inviting. Every angle. Every curve. Every edge of her was gently rounded, from her delicate eyebrows, full pouting lips, to the tips of her chin and button nose.

Even the waves of her short, blond hair curled and softly curved along the contours of her jaw in the dainty bob it had been cropped into. As she absentmindedly tucked a loose tendril behind her ear, she cast her stormy gaze to the floor.

Not quite blue or gray, but a blend of the two. Like an impending storm.

"How can I help you?" Anna asked, a natural smile brought to her lips towards this young woman's disarming presence. "Miss..?" This came a gentle coaxing for the woman's name.

"Kate." The woman said with a softer, more genuine smile to Anna's hospitable, welcoming nature. "Kate Littleton." This came from her lips with the lift of her gaze. "And I was really hoping I could talk to Doctor Lightman." She whispered lightly through the quiet lobby to Anna. "He's..." Her words came through a hesitant pause, as if she were unsure as to how much she truly wanted to disclose about the purpose of her visit. "He said that he would be looking into something for me."

"Is he expecting you?" Anna asked kindly, looking the woman over with a warm yet questioning expression.

"Um..." The young woman mumbled quietly, glancing away once more before she spoke. "No, not exactly."

"Well, I'm really sorry, Ms. Littleton," Anna tone came sincerely remorseful and apologetic with the furrow of her brows as she spoke. "but, Doctor Lightman's very busy at the moment. You can make an appointment to talk to him, though."

As disappointment shaped her delicate, softly rounded features, unobtrusive tears began to well in the young woman's eyes. Looming rain heralding the storm that was at hand. With the softest, silent tremble of her lower lip, it was clear that what she had come for was of great importance to her. And Anna just couldn't see turning her away empty handed. It felt so wrong. Yet, there was really very little that Anna herself could do.

"I could see if he's available for the afternoon." Anna quickly suggested with an appeasing, almost cautious tone towards this young woman who seemed to hold her heart right on her sleeve.

"Anna?" A clearly masculine voice called from a short distance away, drawing the attention of both women at the desk.

Eli looked to Anna, then to the unfamiliar woman, back to Anna. The secretary looked slightly alarmed and overwhelmed with the situation she faced. The one Eli had apparently just stumbled upon.

And the young woman? To Eli, her expression and face seemed the most honest he'd ever seen. Every single emotion and microexpression shaping her features coming raw and unfiltered. Authentic and real. And what he saw gave him pause.

Disappointment.

Pain.

Desperation.

Agony.

This...was a woman in mourning.

"Hey, Eli." Anna murmured with a smile and soft blush, almost relieved at his timely arrival.

"Everything okay?" Eli asked with a furrowed, squinted gaze and the small cant of his head to Anna.

"Yeah." She nodded, her demeanor seeming to have relaxed some as she wordlessly indicated the young woman on the other side of the desk. "We were just about to set up an appointment to see Doctor Lightman."

Suddenly, and without warning, Eli found that he knew this woman. In a violent flash of recognition, he knew her, though he'd never once laid eyes on her himself. Looking away from Anna to further regard this sad young woman, Eli's lips moved of their own accord.

"That's alright, Anna." He said, looking to the young woman. "I'll handle this."

"Are you sure?" Anna asked with a level of confusion in her voice that Eli didn't have to see in order to know how it shaped her face.

"Yeah," He nodded before deviating his gaze away from the silent young woman. "I've got this." This came with a little smile to Anna before Eli looked to the woman in question, a coaxing tone to his voice. "Come on." And with this, the woman gave a small helpless smile of gratitude as she approached him, leaving the front desk.

"Thanks, Eli." He heard Anna call as he gave the lift of his hand in response to her gratitude.

"Thank you." This echoed gratitude came from beside him as the young woman took her place, and the two began to walk down the hall in tandem.

Silence befell them for a moment before Eli's voice manifested a low whisper.

"You're her."

"Excuse me?" The young woman asked in a similar hushed tone.

"You're her." Eli repeated quietly, slowing his longer gate to match hers. "The one who gave Lightman that picture." And the woman stopped in her tracks as Eli gave pause, turning to lower his gaze downward towards her smaller stature as he looked her in the eye. "I'm right, aren't I." He whispered quietly where they both stood in the hallway heading towards the main lab. "He was your boyfriend..."

The woman gave a wordless nod, and Eli's expression immediately shaped in pity.

"I'm sorry for your loss." He uttered lowly, causing a ripple of agony along the young woman's face as she blinked away the beginnings of tears before giving another small nod of acknowledgment to Eli's condolences.

"Thank you." This came breathy from her lips as she held Eli's gaze, her brows knitting with the weight of her sorrow as she spoke. "So, you work with Doctor Lightman?" She asked.

"Yeah." Eli responded. "Eli Loker." He said with the extension of his hand in introduction.

"Kate Littleton." The woman answered, placing her smaller, delicate hand in his. "So..." This came slow with the softest tremble of her full lower lip, her expression hopeful. "...does this mean that you'll be able to take me to see Doctor Lightman?"

Eli gave a small, defeated sigh to this woman's question. The first to look away as he shook his head.

"Anna, our secretary," He began, his eyes coming to meet the woman's face once more in earnest. "she was right about Lightman being busy."

"Busy doing what?" The woman's voice came slightly exasperated with the constant thwarting of her request for an audience with Cal.

"Actually?" Eli muttered begrudgingly. "It's a bit ironic, really." He gave a brief, twitch of a smirk to the absurdity of the sheer timing of this woman's arrival. "Because, right now, he's actually talking to someone your boyfriend worked with."

"Who?" The woman furrowed her brows to this news.

"His music producer." Eli murmured. "Kristean Mitchell." This name came uttered from his lips before he asked. "Do you know him?"

"No." The woman shook her head with a slightly befuddled expression shaping her soft features. "But..." She breathed, confusion quickly overtaken by sorrow once more. "Aden never really talked about work." She said in a low, sad tone. "I think he hated the pressure of constantly being in the spotlight." This came murmured lightly as she looked up to Eli. "But," The faintest flecks of a sad, heartbreaking smile lifted the corner of her lips as she spoke of her deceased lover. "he loved making music. I _know_ that." Her voice faded as she said this.

"I'm sorry." Eli repeated this diplomatic response with the small furrow of his brows in genuine remorse. "I honestly can't even _begin_ to imagine how hard this must be for you."

"Then _help_ me." She whispered in quiet desperation. "Let me see Doctor Lightman."

"I can't." Eli responded earnestly with the shake of his head. "Not while Lightman's in an interview."

"I won't get in the way. I promise." She insisted. "Please..." This came a soft, forlorn, desperate supplication for Eli's assistance. "Can I at least be there when Doctor Lightman's talking to him?" She practically begged. "I _want_ to know what's going on." Her words came on the cusp of the soft tremble of her lips. "I _need_ to know why this happened." She spoke just above a whisper as her gaze hit the floor below her feet. "...why Aden would-" These words lodged in her throat unfinished as she struggled to maintain her composure in front of Eli. "I'm sorry." This mumbled apology came choked out with the shake of her head as Eli gave himself over to a sigh, his fingers instinctively brushing along his brow upon the exhale.

"Lightman's gonna kill me..." He muttered under his breath with the shake of his own head before he met the woman's grief stricken gaze. "Come on." Eli coaxed somewhat begrudgingly as the woman blinked in mild surprise.

"What..?" She stammered in a slight stupor, her brows furrowed towards this change of heart. "Really?"

"Yeah." Eli grumbled. "Come on." And he began walking in the direction of the main lab once more as she followed.

"Thank you." This came a quite whisper from beside him as he gave a sardonic snort through his nose.

"Don't thank me yet." He said. "If Lightman finds out I've let you into the lab and he flips his lid...which he will..." Eli muttered. "I'm using you as a human shield." And the sound of the woman's stifled, short lived laughter filled the hall, causing the corner of Eli's lip to lift in the smirk of a smile.

The rest of the short journey to The Lightman Group's generous lab was made in comfortable silence. The two entered the large, open room where Eli knew Cal was holding his interrogation. The space itself was dimly lit. Filled with the soft hum and glow of computer monitors. Yet in the middle of the large room was a translucent glass stage bathed in white light. And inside this transparent room within a room, two men sitting across from each other, a small table between them.

One of the men the woman could easily recognize as the one she'd gone to for help. Doctor Cal Lightman. But the other? The other, younger looking man, she'd never seen before. So he must have been the one her escort, Eli had mentioned. Kristean Mitchell.

"Can they see us..?" The woman whispered almost timidly to Eli, standing just to the side and a little behind him as her question drew attention to their arrival.

"Loker?" This came a little dumbfounded from Ria's lips as she turned away from the spectacle brewing withing the glass chamber, her dark gaze darting from him to the young woman standing next to him before lingering along him quizzically. "Who's this?" The question drew the attention of Gillian, who had been standing next to Ria as she glanced over her shoulder.

The expression that shaped her features was one of recognition mixed with mild surprise and a sense of alarm.

"Cal's not going to like this." She murmured lightly with the soft purse of her lips to Eli and the young woman as Eli gave a small, knowing bob of the head in agreement.

"Yeah." He admitted a little begrudgingly to Gillian. "I know."

"Someone mind filling me in on what's going on?" Ria muttered towards this scene before her as Gillian merely left her side without so much as a word to her unanswered question, slowly approaching the young woman standing next to Eli.

"Gillian Foster." This came in soft introduction. "I'm Doctor Lightman's associate." Gillian said as she extended her hand in greeting.

"Kate Littleton." The young woman responded, shaking Gillian's hand.

"It's good to finally meet you in person." Gillian murmured warmly towards this woman who, up until now, had only been a fleeting silhouette leaving the lecture hall in Nevada. "Though I wish it could be under different circumstances." She said, her voice genuinely rueful in its tone. "You have my condolences."

" _She's_ the _girlfriend_?" Ria blurted out in a hissed whisper before her dark gaze narrowed on Eli. "Lightman's gonna be _pissed_."

"Yeah." Eli repeated with a slight edge of exasperation. "I got that. Thanks."

"Is it really that bad that I'm here?" The young woman asked quietly, tilting her chin up as she looked questioningly to Eli.

"We don't normally allow our interviews to be observed." Gillian answered as the young woman turned towards her. "At least not by those directly involved with our cases."

"I'm sorry." The woman whispered this apology with the drop of her gaze away from Gillian. "I just..."

"You want answers." Gillian spoke softly again, a knowing look about her as she searched the young woman's face. "You need closure." And the silent bob of the head was Gillian's only response to this query as she gave a small, resigned sigh.

"I understand." Gillian murmured softly, in an almost saddened tone of empathy.

"So..." The woman murmured hesitantly. "...I can stay..?"

"I assume Eli already promised you could?" A small, wry little smile played along the curves of Gillians lips, her tone warm and soothing to the young woman's question before she looked to Eli with the quirk of her brow.

"I did." Eli confirmed with a small nod of his head, and Gillian's eyes once again fell upon the young woman in a brief moment of deliberation.

"Well then..." Gillian murmured, her gaze lingering along the young woman. "...I guess we simply _have_ to make an exception this time." And to this, the woman smiled.

"Thank you." She whispered through full pouting lips shaped that heartbreaking smile.

With that, the three took their place. A silent audience to this interview. This interrogation. A bloodless battle between two indomitable personalities. The meeting of an unstoppable force...and an immovable object. This glass box seeming to contain within it the perfect, if not somewhat ironic, living, breathing embodiment of The Irresistible Force Paradox. And as they stood, watching from the sidelines, the two men's lips seemed to be moving without a single word. Their voices coming synthetic and muffled through the various monitors documenting this interview.

 _'If you're wanting answers, start asking better questions.'_ The man could be heard, his disembodied voice muffled through the monitor's speaker as he looked toward Cal from across the table, barring his attractive profile to his unsuspecting audience.

 _'Right.'_ Cal retorted in a tight-lipped response as he slumped himself back in his seat. _'So, you said that he **never** told you he wanted to off himself, yeah?'_

 _'That's what I said.'_ The man quipped coolly through a steady gaze and impassive expression.

 _'Right then...'_ Cal gave a bit of a pause in his words. _'You want me to ask better questions? Try this one on for size, right?'_ He said through a taut, almost stern expression. _'What was it he **did** tell you, hm?'_ This came blunt in accusation. _'Cause...'_ He held the man's icy gaze in a challenging deadlock stare. _'I **know** he told you **somethin'**.'_

Thus the two began to exchange words like barbs. Questions and retorts coming as thrust and parry in this verbal fencing match. A quiet, disembodied sigh emanating from the man indicated that this battle was only just beginning. And that things were about to intensify.

 _'You all seem so convinced that I had something to do with the kid killing himself.'_ The man murmured, his voice low and quiet over the monitor's speakers. _'Tell me...'_ He gave the almost curious tilt of his head as he stared Cal down from across the table. _'...why **is** that, exactly?'_

 _'Oh I don't know, mate.'_ Cal quipped sardonically as he leaned forward, dramatically resting his chin in his hand. _'Maybe 'cause you play yourself off as a bit of a shady character, yeah?'_ He gave a humorous, somewhat lazy shrug. _'Could have somthin' to do with it. Just sayin'.'_ This came a passive drawl from his lips as he held the man's gaze. _'So you want to let me in on your little secret, there?'_ He said as he stared the man down. _'Cause...I **will** find out, mate. One way or the other.'_

 _'Tell you what.'_ This came uttered in that same dark alluring tone. _'Why don't you just come right out and tell me what you **think** I did.'_ The man uttered above a frigid whisper. _'Just come out and **ask**.'_ He said in challenge. _'So you can stop waiting your time **and** mine.'_ He quipped challengingly with a determined expression. _'How about **that** , Cal.'_

 _'Yeah, right.'_ Cal uttered, settling himself back in his seat away from the table. _'Sounds great.'_

And then...there was silence.

 _'Well..?'_ The man cocked a brow to Cal's lack of words. _'Aren't you going to ask me if I had anything to do with the kid killing himself?'_

 _'Nope.'_ This came through the pop of Cal's lips.

 _'Really..?'_ The man's eyes searched Cal's face inquisitively. _'Why not?'_ He asked. _'Isn't that what you want to know?'_

 _'Course it is.'_ Cal said. _'But that's not what I'm going to ask you.'_

 _'Why not?'_ This came asked again.

 _'Cause you're too clever for that, yeah?'_ He said. _'I ask if you're involved. You say no. And we just go round and round in circles, mate.'_ Cal held the man's imposing stare. _'And you **did** tell me that you didn't want me wasting your time, right?'_

 _'I suppose I did.'_ This came a murmured response. _'So...'_ The man retorted coolly. _'Where does that leave us, then?'_ He asked. _'Because, if you don't have anymore questions for me, there are other matters I'd like to attend to.'_

 _'Oh no.'_ Cal quickly answered. _'I've got **loads** of questions for you.'_

 _'Such as..?'_ The man asked with the furrow of his well groomed brows.

 _'You two were at a party together, yeah? About a month before he decided to go and off himself?'_

 _'I'm guessing you already know the answer to that.'_ The man responded in a flat, monotonous tone of disinterest.

 _'I do.'_ Cal admitted shamelessly. _'I also know that the two of you left together.'_

 _'So why bother asking?'_ The man lowly muttered.

 _'Oh, you know...'_ These words came laissez-faire with the shrug of Cal's shoulders. _'Cause I'm wondering what it was you two talked about that night when you had a moment alone with him.'_

The man looked away. Slowly turning his face from Cal towards the glass. As he did so, his startling exotic blue gaze narrowed. And the young woman on the other side of the glass, Kate Littleton, gave a sharp inhalation of surprise. Because it seemed with out a doubt that he was looking at her. Right _at_ her. And she found herself absolutely horrified at how his startlingly handsome features were so grotesquely unkind under the harsh light of the glass room.

"He can't see me, right?" She let out a whispered hiss as she took a small, frightened half-step back from the glass.

And it was Ria who shook her head. Her eyes never leaving the man in the interrogation room as her voice manifested low in an attempt for consolation.

"No." She whispered back to the woman seeming no older than herself. "He can't see you." Ria said in a quiet voice as she held the man's unnerving stare. "The glass is one sided right now. We can see him." She said. "But he can't see us." And it made Ria blush, the thought that it had been because of her that Cal had demanded the glass be tinted during this interview.

"Are you sure?" The woman asked, her voice barely audible before the monitor's speaker burst to life.

 _' **Oi**!'_ Cal's booming disembodied voice startled the woman as she gave a reflexive flinch. _'Did you hear me?'_ The man's head snapped towards Cal, the two staring each other down and sizing the other up as he spoke. _'What was it he said to you?'_

 _'What makes you think that we actually talked?'_ This came a cold, impassive deadpanned question from the man's perfect lips.

 _'Come on, mate.'_ Cal's tone came somewhat patronizing in its sarcasm. _'You may be smart.'_ He said. _'But I'm smarter.'_ His words came laced around the cocky smirk of a knowing smile. _'And a man taking another man home after a party gets out of hand? Well, there's bound to be some talk around that, mate.'_ He said. _'So, out with it then.'_

 _'What are you so convinced happened?'_ The man asked, his voice as cold as his eyes as he masterfully deflected the question, once again attempting to force Cal into showing his hand with what he knew or didn't know.

 _'You worked with him for some time, yeah? So...'_ Cal's words came slowed and paced with intent as he spoke. _'...exactly how much did you know about the kid, hm?'_

 _'When I signed him on to our record label?'_ The man murmured lowly through a fleeting pause. _'I didn't know a thing about him.'_

 _'There you go, being clever again.'_ Cal said. _'And your **so** bloody good at it, aren't you?'_ The man smirked at this as Cal continued, staring him down. _'You're **so** good at being clever, yeah, that I bet **no** body's been able to catch you.'_ Cal searched the man's face before he gave himself over to a cockeyed smirk of his own. _'Well,'_ He gave pause as the smirk playing along the corner of his lips tugged further up in smugness. _'no one except for me, mate.'_ He said, his voice ringing with self-assured confidence. _'You're not foolin' me.'_ And a fleeting microexpression of smug amusement seemed to indicate that the man didn't exactly believe Cal, and took his words as a challenge.

One he seemed to accept.

 _'No?'_ The man asked with the quirk of his brow to Cal's claim.

 _'Nope.'_ Cal said with the flare of a dramatically waved hand. _'The truth is written all over your face, mate.'_

 _'Ah. That.'_ The man lowered his voice in understanding. _'Ria told me something about that.'_

 _'Oh-yeah?'_ Cal's voice lifted in curiosity with the arch of his brows. _'And what did she say?'_

 _'That you can tell if someone is lying by reading their facial expressions.'_ The man said matter-of-factly, sounding less than impressed as he held Cal's soul exposing stare.

 _'True.'_ Cal gave the dramatized side-bob of his head. _'Everything you try to hide is all right there, yeah?'_ He said with an air of confidence in his own abilities. _'On your face.'_ This came with a small pause before he continued. _'I can see how you **really** feel when you say somethin', mate.'_

 _'Hm.'_ The man mused to himself with a fleeting wayward glance. _'Apparently, Ria has the idea in her head that I can somehow do something that._ ' He said as those cold oceanic eyes drifted back towards Cal. _'' **See'** feelings.'_ These words were laced in a smug little smirk of a smile. _'What did she call it?'_ This question lingered between them briefly before it came self-answered. _'Being a 'natural', I think.'_

 _'And..?'_ Cal murmured. _'Are you?'_ This question came as pointed as his look as he gave it further life and clarification. _'A natural, mate?'_

 _'At reading feelings?'_ The man asked as another little smirk began to crawled its way slowly along tantalizing lips before it fully bloomed into a devastating smile with the shake of his head as he looked down and away. _'Hate to disappoint, but, I've never really been all that fond of them, myself.'_

 _'No?'_ Cal asked curiously.

 _'No.'_ The man responded with another small shake of the head and the knitting of his brows as he asked. _'You want to know what **I** see when I look at someone, **Cal**?'_

 _'What's that?'_ This came a slow drawl as Cal decided to humor the man in this question.

 _'Buttons.'_ This came blunt from thin lips curved in a small, wicked little smile.

 _'Buttons?'_ Cal asked with the furrow of his brows.

 _'Mm. A whole **smattering** of buttons.'_ The man replied. _'Ones just **begging** to be pressed.'_

When he had said this, the two held each others gaze a moment. Only a moment. And though it was fleeting and short lived a profound, deafening silence befell them before Cal spoke again.

 _'So...'_ His eyes darted along the man's face in search of answers. _'Is that what happened, then?'_ He asked. _'Did you go and press his buttons?'_

 _'Honestly?'_ This came with the small cant of the man's head as he stared Cal down from across the table.

 _'Well, you **could** lie to me...'_ Cal gave a casual shrug of indifference, as if this truly were a moot point. _'...but I'd know. Cause you can't bullshit a bullshitter, mate.'_ He spoke with certainty. _'So...out with it, yeah? The truth. Pure and simple.'_ And the man smirked again.

 _'The truth is rarely pure, and never simple.'_ This came with an air of highbrow condescension.

 _'Oscar Wilde?'_

 _'Mm-hm.'_

 _'You a fan of him, mate?'_ Cal asked, and the man gave a passive shrug.

 _'Not really, no. But I know a guy who is.'_ He offered. _'Honestly, I'm not really much of a fan of anything.'_

 _'Except yourself, right?'_ Cal added sardonically, and the man chuckled in amusement.

 _'So what happened?'_ Cal asked, reengaging the man in conversation. _'Really. Cause it was clear the kid was having a bad go of it that night, yeah.'_

 _'Yeah.'_ The man finally relented with bold faced truth, the walls of his defenses seeming to have been breached as his confidence soared in the face of his adversary's search for answers. _'Apparently, he'd had to attend a parole hearing earlier that day. Before the party.'_

 _'His own?'_ Cal asked, genuinely intrigued by this fresh information.

Information that hadn't been in _either_ of the legal files The Lightman Group had received.

 _'No.'_ The man shook his head, his voice coming low and muffled through the monitor's speaker system. _'His father's.'_

The news of this seemed to take the young woman's breath away. Her brows furrowed as lashes fluttered against the threat of tears.

"What..?" This breathy whisper parted her full, pouting lips as they trembled. "No." She shook her head, her eyes never once looking away from the ones in the glass room as she spoke, her brows beginning to furrow. "Aden told me..." Her soft expression shaped in pained agony and confusion. "He told me that his father was dead. But he's _alive_?" She questioned. "And in _prison_?"

As Gillian turned away from the interrogation to glance over at the young woman, she could see the young woman's heart breaking right before her very eyes over having inadvertently discovered this hurtful lie. And she didn't like the idea of where this could possibly lead. The effect that observing this interview and discovering the truth of things would inevitably have on the young woman when she'd already been through so much.

What was it Cal had always said? Truth or happiness...

Never both.

And it seemed that this young woman was destined for the painful path of truth.

 _'So that parole hearing. That set him off, yeah?'_ Cal's disembodied voice could be heard over the speaker system.

 _'Enough to **really** fuck himself up at the party.'_ The man freely admitted what the Lightman Group had already witnessed from the footage provided by the musician's band-mate and friend.

 _'Enough to tell you about it?'_ Cal asked bluntly, causing the man to shrug in the seat he seemed to claim as a thrown.

 _'Maybe.'_ His response came more than a little cryptic.

 _'Alright then.'_ This came a taut-lipped retort through a forced sigh. _'What **else** did he ' **maybe** ' tell you that night, hm?'_ Cal asked. _'When he was in such a state.'_ His expression came stern as he searched the man with a probing stare. _'He didn't just so happen to say oh, I don't know, tell you about what happened to him, aye?'_

 _'So **that's** what this is about?'_ This came on the cusp of a chuckle as the man spoke, his gaze deviating to the thick, imposing file that had been blatantly ignored up until now. _'Is **that** what's in that file?'_ He asked.

 _'What do you know about what's in this file?'_ Cal questioned, testing the waters of his growing suspicion.

 _'In that file?'_ Those exotic, oceanic eyes lingered along the concealed documents before looking to Cal once more. _'Nothing.'_

 _'Then...'_ Cal chose his words carefully, feeling as if he were on the brink of finally discovering the truth this man so artfully toyed with and dangled in front of him. _'...what is it that you **do** know about what happened to him?'_ He asked. _'Cause it's pretty clear to me, mate, that you know **somethin** '.'_ Cal stated with strength and conviction before he fired off another question to further disarm the man. _'Did he tell you about his dad?'_ Another was fired without waiting for reply. _'Yeah...he told you about his dad, didn't he?'_

 _'The man's a real piece of work...'_ Was the only response offered to the multitude of questions.

 _'Yeah,'_ Cal gave the swift side-bob of the head in full agreement to the man's statement. _'he is.'_ He said. _'But then, what would **you** know about that, right?'_

 _'I know that the guy was a drunk.'_ The man said. _'And that he repeatedly fucked the kid then beat him.'_ This came so cold and heartless from the man's lips, and wholly unsympathetic to the deceased musician's tragic childhood.

Outside of the glass room, the young woman's fingers laced her lips to stifle a choked sob over having so suddenly discovered her dead lover's history of childhood trauma and abuse. And it was painfully clear from her reaction, and the way tears helplessly rolled down her soft cheeks, that the young man had never shared _any_ of this with her.

 _'Yeah. That's what the file says.'_ Cal muttered this truth with another little nod of the head. _'But how would you know about that, unless you took a peek when you signed him on?'_

 _'…he told me...'_ The man stated matter-of-factly as he held Cal's gaze. _'I mean, once he opened his mouth, he just couldn't shut himself up. It was touching, really. How he confided in me.'_ He said, looking as if he was fighting off another one of his little smirks. _'He cried and everything.'_

 _'Yeah,'_ Cal's voice manifested flatly. _'I'm sure he did.'_

 _'And it was worse when he got to talking about his mom.'_ The truth just continued to maliciously pour from the man's lips.

 _'Oh-yeah?'_ Cal asked. _'What **about** his mum? What did **she** do?'_ He posed this questioned.

One he already had an answer to. But...he wanted to find out exactly how much the man knew on the subject.

 _'You don't know?'_ The man raised a single brow to this.

 _'Enlighten me.'_

 _'She killed herself.'_ The man accepted the dare with this bold statement. _'Not too long after the kid had testified about what happened to him and his dad's ass was thrown in prison.'_

 _'He tell you that, too?'_

 _'Mm-hm.'_ This came a passive hum of indifference, though the man's eyes seemed to show that he rather enjoyed regaling Cal with these horrors in his colleague's absence and inability to protest and defend himself. _'And that it took her three days to die.'_ The man continued revealing these secrets that weren't his to expose. _'Said he laid with her in that hospital bed the whole time.'_ He said. _'Tragic, really. Kept crying about how it was all his fault.'_ This was said in such a way as if remorse, for this man, was truly not and option.

 _'Bloody hell.'_ Cal breathed. _'He really **did** tell you **everything** , didn't he?'_

 _'Doesn't mean I had anything to do with him jumping.'_ The man attested in self defense.

And there it was again. Another little, almost infinitesimal, smirk lifted the corner of the man's attractive lips.

 _'You **really** need to fix your face, mate.'_ Cal chastised harshly.

 _'Why?'_ The man asked flatly. _'What's wrong with my face?'_

 _'Why do you find all this so bloody funny?'_ Cal's tone came biting with the unamused, stern severity of his expression.

 _' **Do** I?'_ The man asked this flippant question through a deadpanned drawl.

 _'Bloody laughing your **ass** off about it, mate.'_ Cal retorted with the furrow of his brows. _'You think it's all so funny, do you?'_ He harshly flipped the thick file open with a resounding thud as he plucked one of the truly gruesome photographs from the confidential contents documenting the deceased's abuse, slamming it on the table face up to show the man. _'How about **this**?'_ His voice came raised through the speaker system before snatching another archived photograph of the young man as a beaten child and slamming it on the table next to the other. _'Or **this**?!'_ He shouted at the man, staring him down in anger. _'That **funny** to you?!'_

As the man looked to the photographic evidence before him, his face came blank. Void. Lacking in any form of reflectors to indicate he felt anything at all over having seen such horrifically grotesque images of child abuse.

Seeing these photographs didn't bother him in the least.

On the other side of the glass, however, was a different story entirely. And the deceased's grief-stricken lover burst into tears, unable to deal with the photographs of her dead love that she hadn't been prepared to see. The visual of the beaten child too much to bear as she squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head in protest.

"I can't-" Her voice came breathy through debilitating sorrow. "I can't do this."

She turned away from the glass for the first time since having entered the room, her movements so swift. As if she meant to flee. To run away. And Eli went to follow her. To ensure her safety and well-being. Yet as the woman stalked away, her movements became more determined. Less haphazard. More meaningful and driven with purpose as she made her way to the entrance of the glass interrogation room.

Storming in, stopping just past the threshold of the room, her sudden and wholly unexpected presence drew both men's attention. Cal was the first of the two to see her. His expression giving over to surprise with the raise of his brows. And the other swiftly turned in his seat to glance over his shoulder. His pale blue exotic gaze hitting her full force with a furrowed expression of slight confusion. Those eyes roaming over her curiously as she openly glared back at him through teary eyes. Her words coarse and filled with raw emotion as she yelled at him.

"What did you do?!"

* * *

 **A/N:Firstly, I apologize for any and all errors I have missed in the editing process. I would love to get me a competent editor for my work. But then I remember...I don't work well with others. I also apologize if this particular chapter seems a bit haphazard in character point of view. I hope it came off well, and not too daunting. My apologies if it did.**

 **On another note, many thanks again to all of you still reading and following this story. And special thanks to those who have gone above and beyond in having reviewed. The fact that you would take time out of your busy life to not only read this work of mine, but let me know what you think. Well...I'm left humbled each and every time.**

 **As it stands, I'm looking at about four more chapters to finish this up. So we're getting close. Hence, in hindsight, why I've progressively slowed in my updates as I'm rounding the finish line.**

 **And I sincerely apologize for that. No, really. I mean it. I feel really...really bad about it.**


	20. Track 19: Ghost Screams

**A/N: Again, apologies for the delayed update and any editing errors on my part. Anyone that feels like they would want to step up and fill the role of editor, I'm in the market.**

 **And thank you to all of you! Those who have reviewed. And those who continue to read this story! Another chapter down. Only three more to go to wrap this whole story up!**

 **Though this whole entire story is influenced by the music of the band Bring Me The Horizon, for this chapter, I feel like the song "Doomed" fits especially well. So push play. Turn it up. And enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

 _ _'The only way three people can keep a secret is if two are dead.'__

 _ _-Cal Lightman quoting Benjamin Franklin__

Cal was the first to see her. The deceased's lover, Kate Littleton. His expression one of surprise with the high arch of his brows towards her sudden and wholly unexpected entrance into the room. And in response to Cal's reaction, the band's music producer swiftly turned in his seat to glance over his shoulder. His pale blue exotic gaze hitting her full force with a furrowed, slightly perplexed expression. Those oceanic eyes roaming over her curiously as she openly glared back at him through teary eyes. Her words coarse and filled raw emotion as she yelled at him.

"What did you do?!"

"You can't be in here, love." Cal's voice came stern and authoritative in this statement, drawing the man's attention away from the young woman as he openly ignored her outraged condemnation.

"Calvin..." His name was a slowed, low questioning drawl from the man's lips with the quirk of a single, well groomed brow. "...who's this?"

Cal watched as the man regarded him questioningly with a inquisitive, searching gaze for a moment. Only a moment, before suddenly and without warning, he lifted himself up from his makeshift thrown. In one swift, elegant move the man stood and turned, his back to Cal as he began a slow, almost languid approach to the woman at the entrance of the glass interrogation room. And Cal suddenly found himself in such a precarious situation. One he hadn't anticipated. One which he didn't like. Because now that the man's back was to him, he couldn't read him. The minute microexpressions of his facial features. His mood and intent. And Cal knew, with what little he'd discovered about this man during the interview, that this was a dangerous position to be in.

Yet everything seemed to happen too suddenly, in dramatized slow motion as the young woman now came at the barrel's end of that predatory stare.

"She the one?" Cal heard the man ask this question with a blatant lack of respect to the woman in front of him as he overtly refused addressing her personally. "The one who got you involved in this little incident." A narrowed, icy gaze met these words in equal seriousness as the man held an expression of neutrality to the suspected whistle blower. "Is this McCaffery's girlfriend?" This question loomed unanswered before Cal heard a light chuckle emanate from the man in response to the young woman's angered expression.

"What did you do to Aden?!" The woman shouted again, glaring at the man as Cal quickly stood from his seat to mediate and intervene in this volatile situation.

What Cal needed...was to regain control of this interview.

As he approached them, Cal readily felt the tension between these two individuals. The woman glowering up at the man. Heartbroken. Pained. Angry. The man staring down at her. Regarding her with cool indifference. Her stormy eyes of bluish gray bravely meeting the unforgiving, frigid depths of the man's oceanic gaze. The woman's petite figure making his own lack of stature seem almost Goliath in nature.

"When I took the kid home after the party, I didn't do anything." This came slightly smug and condescending, directed at Cal as the man continued to stare the woman down.

"Tell me the truth!" The woman raised her voice with this demand.

"He's telling the truth, love." Cal interjected, though neither one of them even looked at him. "At least about that night, yeah?" He said, looking to the man as he looked to the young woman. "But then, that's not the _whole_ story, now _is_ it?" And Cal saw the almost infinitesimal lift at the corner of the man's lips.

"So what happened?" Cal asked.

"After?" The man questioned, addressing Cal's question while persisting in this unnervingly standoff with the young woman. "Nothing." He said. "Like I said, the kid wasn't in the habit of talking to me." This came cool and monotonous from the man's lips. "That night never came up."

"So you never asked him about what he'd told you?"

"No." This came answered with the light shake of his head. "I didn't." He said. "Why _would_ I?" The man asked with the small furrow of his brows, his eyes never once leaving the young woman in front of him.

"Because he came to you!" The woman yelled at him. " _You_!" She repeated quickly in anger before Cal had the chance to answer the question himself. "He let down his guard and he told you _everything_!"

"And that's somehow my fault?" The man asked as he addressed the woman directly for the first time with a small, condescending smirk. "It's not like I _forced_ him to tell me anything. He did all that himself."

"But _you_ were the one that was there when he opened himself up." The woman said, her voice pained and raw with bitter anguish.

"Does that bother you?" The man question, now dangerously searching the young woman's face. "That it was _me_..." This came a cold whisper from his lips with the narrowing of his icy gaze. "...instead of _you_."

"You need to go now." Cal prompted again, sensing that nothing good could possibly come of this unnecessarily deleterious conversation.

Yet the young woman was tenacious. And she simply refused to relent, despite Cal's words, as she brazenly and somewhat stubbornly held her ground. Cal knew, from her body language and the expression shaping the soft curves of her face, that she would not leave without the answers she was looking for. Answers that Cal suspected would irrevocably hurt her.

"What did you _do_?!" She screamed again. "Tell me the truth!" Pale blue eyes stared her down as the man merely met this outburst with a frightening expression of indifference to her pain.

"About _me_?" The man quipped lowly in challenge with the narrowing of his gaze. "Or _him_..?" He said, the tone of his voice frozen over. "Because, it's becoming pretty obvious to me that I knew him better than you did." The faintest twitch of a malicious smirk lifted the corner of the man's lip as he spoke before he gave the curious cant of his head. "Did he not trust you?" He asked, staring the woman down as the smile playing along his otherwise placid features grew. "Don't worry." He uttered lowly on the cusp of an amused chuckle with the drop of his voice. "He didn't really trust me, either. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time."

"In the right place at the right time?!" The young woman shouted in the man's face as he now openly gave himself over to stifled laughter.

"You know," The man chuckled. "it's a little funny, Cal." He said, reengaging Cal in the conversation as he stared the young woman down through a tilted gaze. "There was just one concept that the kid could never really grasp." And Cal willingly accepted the man's attention in order to derail the dangerously mounting tension between the man and woman.

"Oh yeah, what's that, mate?" Cal asked, and the man smiled condescendingly to the young woman.

"That, in this industry, there's no such thing as privacy."

"That's what you did?!" The woman yelled in outrage towards the man. "You told other people what Aden told you?!" Her soft, gently rounded features shaped in anguish as she looked the man in the eye, her full lower lip trembling in grief. "About everything that happened to him?"

"Didn't have to." The man lightly scoffed. "The fact of the matter was that if _I_ knew," He murmured a little lower with the deepening of his voice. "then it was only a matter of time before everyone else found out. Eventually." He said this matter-of-factly with a passive shrug. "That's just how this industry works." A slight smirk lifted the corners of his lips as he spoke. "Skeletons rarely have the decency to stay in their proverbial closet."

"So you never ratted him out, then?" Cal asked, once again attempting to gain the man's attention from the woman.

"Well..." The man mused with that smug smirk. "I'd be lying if I said I hadn't at least _thought_ about it. But..." He said with a small pause as he finally looked to Cal for the first time since the woman had entered the glass room. "No. I didn't say anything." Cal watched as that diabolical smirk began to blossom and grow. "In fact, now that I think of it, me _not_ saying anything seemed to really set the kid off." He said with the lowering of his voice as he stared Cal down. "After that night I just watched him skulk around me like a whipped dog."

"What?" The young woman gasped out in a weak, breathy voice, her brows furrowed in anguish as she faded into the safety of the man's peripheral.

"He had no idea what he had told you that night..." Cal asked with the dramatized cant of his head to better eye the man and size him up with this question. "...did he?"

"No." The man answered monotonously, holding Cal's unrelenting stare as that soul exposing gaze darted around exquisitely emotionless features.

Searching.

Reading.

Scrutinizing and probing the man for unspoken answers.

"So you bloody let him go on wondering what'd happened without so much as telling him?" Cal bit out harshly, glaring at the man from a tilted view. "Just string him along, did you?"

"Maybe." The man admitted coolly with a small shrug of indifference. "For a while..." This came tacked on as an evasive afterthought.

"How long did this go on? You, toying with him?" Cal snapped towards the man's elusive silence before his voice grew in its forcefulness with the small, half step forward he took. "How long?!"

"Mm...not too long." The man mused a moment. "He eventually confronted me about it, demanding to know what I had done." He said, deigning a brief side-glance to the woman before continuing to ignore her. "Which, as I've already said, was absolutely nothing. And I told him as much." The tone of his words came as condescendingly smug as they were cold. "Of course...he didn't believe me."

"Course he didn't." Cal quipped bitterly.

"Wait..." The young woman's voice broke their silent standoff as the man's cold gaze dangerously narrowed along her once more. "Aden went to see you again?" She asked through raw emotion and the deepening of her furrowed brows in confusion. "About the night he'd talked to you?"

"He did." The man stated matter-of-factly as the woman gave a small, baffled jerk of her head.

"When?"

That single question lingered in the silence a moment. Exposed under the harsh abrasive lights of the glass chamber and probing eyes. Cold, pale exotic eyes filled with something akin to malice.

"About a month after the party." The man finally murmured impassively, and Cal found himself somewhat blindsided by this.

"Bloody hell." This harsh curse slipped past Cal's lips in a hiss as he scowled at the man. "He came to you just before killing himself?" Call practically yelled this in accusation. "And you didn't think to mention that to my team?" And the man gave Cal a disinterested expression.

"I talk to a lot of people. About a lot of things. On a daily basis." The man replied nonchalantly towards Cal's baffled anger. "So...no." He said in a reserved tone of cold dispassion. "It didn't really seem all that important at the time."

"So what, then?!" Cal snapped, his tone laced in sardonic indignation. "Everyone that talks to you feels like offing themselves?!"

"Come on, Cal." The man scoffed with the lowering of his voice and a condescending smirk. "You give me too much credit." And Cal's gaze darted along the man's face in a probing search as he muttered.

"Or maybe not enough."

"What did you tell him when he came to you asking about that night?" The young woman hissed this question, gaining the attention of the band's music producer once more.

As Cal observed the two stare each other down, he saw something subtlety change withing the man's cool, stoic demeanor.

"What did you say to him?!" The woman raised her voice with this demand for an answer.

"I told him the truth." He said with cold impassivity.

"I don't believe you." She quipped angrily in a bitter tone.

"And neither did your boyfriend," The man coldly uttered. "In fact..." He continued. "...just like you, he was pretty convinced that I was lying." He said. "That is... until I told him _exactly_ what he had told me the night of the party. About what happened to him." And Cal watched the man absorb the pain this statement inflicted upon the deceased's lover. "I had to be very... _specific_...with the details he'd given to me that night before he eventually believed me." Cal could see how this was beginning to please the man.

Each fleeting microexpression of amusement was becoming easier to catch. To read on the man's otherwise impassive expression. He was becoming less and less guarded with his emotions in the presence of this woman. Someone he clearly didn't feel threatened by. And Cal could see it. How he practically fed off of each and every negative emotion radiating from the woman. Her sorrow. Her anguish. And her anger towards him. The young woman's anger towards the man, especially, seemed to pique his interest and stir his arousal.

The man was getting off on her pain.

"Then he begged me to stop talking." He continued to recount the conversation as he now addressed Cal directly while he maintained his stare upon the young woman. "But, I mean, you just _can't_ go around acting as pathetic as he was and _not_ expect to get your ass beat."

"You had him bloody _terrified_ , didn't you..?" Cal uttered under his breath as his brows furrowed towards the man's words. "That you were going to say something about what you'd found out." This gained the man's attention from the woman in the room as he turned his profile towards Cal.

"Come on, Cal," The man spoke in a cold, monotonous tone. "you know better than that." He scolded. "I _never_ said that I was going to tell _anyone_ about what he'd told me."

"Nah, mate." Cal retorted with the shake of his head. "You didn't _have_ to, right?" He said. "Cause, I think this kid knew you bloody well enough not to trust that you wouldn't say something...eventually. When it suited you." The two stared each other down as Cal spoke. "And when he found out you knew, he _literally_ couldn't live with the thought of being around when you exposed him." He said, his tone hardened in accusation as he vividly remembered how the young man had cowered to his music producer in the video footage he'd been given by the young man's friend.

"What?" The young woman hissed as the man's gaze drifted back towards her.

The young woman's expression came so hurt. So angry, that Cal doubted she had much control over her emotions while in such a volatile state. It was painfully clear to Cal that this young woman was struggling to come to terms with her lover's passing. And the level of resentment that shaped her softly rounded features as she stared the man down made it obvious that she blamed _him_ for the young man's suicide.

"What did you do?!" This came snapped from her full, trembling lips as, without warning, the palms of her hands came placed along the man's chest to shove him back half a pace.

This sudden action upon the woman's part caused the fleeting curl of the man's upper lip at her. That same brief, hostile display of teeth in a sneer that suggested an uncontrollable raging anger being forcefully subdued. By physically pushing him, the young woman had inadvertently triggered this man's aggression. Though Cal doubted that she herself had seen this, with as fugacious as the man's microexpression of anger towards her had been.

"Tell me!" She yelled at him as the man stared down at her, loitering his height over her smaller stature.

"Tell you _what_?" This came so frighteningly cold towards her anger and hostility towards him.

"What you said to Aden," Her voice was raw and pained as Cal saw the imperceptible curve of the man's lips. "to make him want to take his life." Soft, full lips quivered and trembled over these words as the young woman stared him down.

"Hm..." The man's dark, well groomed brows lightly knit together towards this demand. "And why should I tell you that?" This question came in challenge.

"Love." Cal's voice manifested lowly beside her in an attempt to gain the woman's attention. "Don't do this." He warned, sensing how the man was now actively antagonizing her to gain a reaction.

Yet the woman seemed to completely ignore him as she continued in her search for answers over the death of her lover.

"I _need_ to know!" She screamed at the man.

"Look at his face." Cal continued to talk to her. "Anything he's going to tell you now will only hurt you." He said, attempting to reason with the young woman.

"I don't _care_!" She screamed toward Cal as her gaze remained fixated on the man. "Aden's _dead_!" Her voice came laced in anguish over this fact. "I'm al _ready_ hurt!" The young woman wailed in agony. "I _need_ the truth!"

"Is that _really_ what you want?" The man countered lowly, continuing to antagonize her as the expression of his face remained impassive and unsympathetic to her pain. "The truth?"

"Listen to me, darlin'." Cal interjected again, desperately trying to gain the woman's attention away from the man's taunting. "This is a game to him. Don't let him muck about with you like this."

"What. Did. You. Say." Each word came pointed in a low hiss of demand from the young woman's lips.

"Well..." The man mused almost to himself. "I'd said a _lot_ of things." This came murmured through his perfect lips. "I mean...the kid didn't talk much, so I was left carrying most of the conversation."  
He said "But..." This came with the slightest pause of his words as he spoke. "...It's possible that at some point..." He said. "I _might_ have suggested to the kid that, if he wanted to be a little _less_ pathetic," The slightest smile lifted the corner of his lip as he spoke. "he should just go and kill himself."

"Bloody hell." Cal cursed lowly in stunned surprise over this man's brutal declaration. "You bloody _told_ him to do it!" And the man slowly turned his face towards Cal, away from the woman.

And the microexpression that played along his features was one of pure amusement and complete lack of remorse.

"Please..." He scoffed towards Cal's outburst. "...it's not like I expected him to _actually_ do it."

It was then, that Cal knew. _Knew_ what he had already suspected for some time since beginning this interrogation. It _was_ possible. That what this man claimed was true. That he hadn't expected the young musician to take his own life at the man's horrifically calloused, goading words. But... It was clear to Cal, with the man's words and fleeting microexpression of amusement that briefly played along his features as he looked at Cal, that the man had at least held a curiosity that the young man just _might_. Actually do it. Kill himself.

And it was clear to Cal that the man felt little remorse of his actions or how they might have provoked the young man to jump to his death.

The softest, horrified gasp marred and brutalized the silence that had followed, causing the man's head to swiftly turn away from Cal towards it's source. Exotic, pale blue eyes took in the expression of the grief-stricken woman. The deceased's lover.

And...he smiled.

The man smiled as his lips curled in pleasure, showing his malicious intent to anyone that gazed upon him. His wide smile revealed his true predator form, as if he wanted to hurt someone. He smiled, as tears streamed down her cheeks.

The young woman stifled another helpless sob, having laced her lips with the tips of her fingers. Her brows knit together under the excruciating weight of her sorrow. Left without words, her soft features came ravaged with the myriad of emotions she felt. One microexpression after another. Raw, painful, and short-lived as it came quickly replaced by the next. And Cal saw them all. Saw everything. But the last?

The last came too quickly for him to react. To prevent the aftermath.

Swiftly jerking her head in horrified disbelief, the woman finally dropped her hand from the lips she had attempted to silence. And in that moment Cal saw the sheer rage in the full extent of the microexpression that shaped her face just before it happened, and her delicate hand quickly lashed out to strike the man across the face.

The sound echoed and resonated in the glass chamber with the sting of this assault. The room immediately filled with _all_ of the shame and humiliation that came with it. The perfect embodiment of adding insult...to injury. And the man's unflappable calm seemed completely shattered.

His expression, at first, came quite genuinely surprised by this affront. His hand coming instinctively to his face where he'd just been struck as he attempted to absorb what had just occurred. The neurological chemicals in his brain seeming to briefly overwhelm rational thought as his expression changed from open bafflement to complete and utter rage. Like a wildfire that flickered in the flutter of his lashes and quickly spread out of control along his face in the frightening curl of his upper lip in an animalistic sneer of bared teeth.

"You _bitch_." This came hissed through clenched teeth.

Everything that had been moving in strange slow motion was suddenly thrown into a frenzied fever-pitch as, in an instant, the man raised the back of his hand against the woman to strike her down. The woman reactively shrinking away as she raised her arm along her face to abate the blow.

"Oi!" Cal yelled loud enough to rattled the man in halting his assault upon the woman, giving Cal the distraction he had needed to move himself protectively in front of the young woman and shove the man back a half step away from her. "Sit _down_!"

"She fucking _slapped_ me." The man protested angrily against Cal's demand for him to sit, the back of his hand craving violent retribution for this woman's audacity.

"Yeah." Cal gave the dramatized side-bob of his head. "Yeah, she did." He said, jutting an accusing finger towards the man. "And _you_ blood well deserved it." This came snapped from Cal's lips as the man continued to seethe, Cal's voice raised to answer the man's dangerous challenge stare as he yelled.. "So _take_ it like a _bloody_ man, and _sit_! _Down_!"

"And _you_!"

Cal immediately turned on the woman, his tone angry as he tightly gripped her forearm to forcefully lead her out of the interrogation room. Roughly turning her to face him, Cal saw the look of complete fear in her eyes before it was taken over and replaced by bafflement when he smiled to her, winking.

"That was bloody brilliant." He whispered to her, his smile turning a bit cheeky as he loosened his grip on her arm.

"...what..?" The young woman responded in a perplexed whisper of her own as her brows furrowed.

"You've been brave enough for one day, love." Cal murmured lightly towards the way this young woman had so directly confronted the man. "Go on, now." He gently coaxed. "You just leave him to me, aye?" These words followed the little nod of his head as he whispered this to her like a co-conspirator.

With this, Cal gave her the gentlest push out the open door she'd come through, her soft features still shaped in perplexed anguish as she stepped backwards back into the main laboratory. Looking past her, Cal made eye contact with the one who stood behind her. Eli held a similar baffled expression as the woman when he met Cal's gaze, though there was an undercurrent of remorse and guilt. And though he saw this look of shame along Eli's face clear as day, Cal didn't have the time to find out what he had done.

"Take her to my office, Loker." Cal murmured just above a whisper, leaving the fragile, distraught young woman in Eli's charge as he gave a small nod to this order before Cal closed the opaque glass door on the young woman.

Closing her off and disconnecting her from the ugliness in that room. Yet the woman just stood at the door with a blank expression, staring in silence.

"Come on..." Eli's voice manifested quietly behind her in gentle coaxing.

As he placed a hand along her shoulder, the young woman finally turned from the door. A bit dazed, she helplessly allowed Eli to lead her away. One foot in front of the other in a numb, lifeless walk. One foot...in front of the other with the hollow, empty movement of her body until she gave the lightest stagger. A raw, jagged inhalation parted her full trembling lips as her face contorted in grief. Fingertips brushed to trap the ragged sob that followed, the full force and weight of everything that had just transpired finally hitting her. And once the dam had been broken, there was nothing to stop the torrential flood of emotions as she completely fell apart into uncontrollable tears.

From inside the room, Cal could hear the sounds of the young woman mourning the fate of her deceased lover. The young musician. And a small, defeated sigh passed through his nose.

"Truth or happiness..." He quietly muttered to himself with the furrow of his brows. "Never both."

"This doesn't change anything..." Cal heard this lowly murmured from behind him in cold, smug indifference. "It doesn't change the fact that, no matter _what_ I did, it was the kid's choice to jump." Cal heard the man say. "He did it to himself."

"Yeah..." Cal replied with a heavy sigh of resignation. "He did." He gave the small hang of his head before turning away from the door to look the man in the eye. "But _you_ gave him a bloody good push, _didn't_ you." Cal countered against the man's downplay of his own guilt in such a tragic series of unfortunate events.

The young man's gruesome trauma history of abuse.

The retraumatization he suffered years later when he'd attended his father's parole hearing.

His lamentable disclosure of such damaging details of this abuse to his music produce while under the influence.

...the month of silence he'd been tortured with...

And then the careless words he was cruelly taunted with just before his fall.

"Yeah, well..." The man murmured, holding Cal's angered stare. "Good luck in actually _proving_ that." He said with the small smirk of a smile. "I doubt anything said here today has legal backing. And whatever I _might_ have said or _not_ said to the kid is purely speculative." This came smugly confident towards the circumstantial nature of the man's testimony as he continued lowly. "I mean...the last time I talked to the kid, it was just the two of us in my office. So, really..." He murmured through a cocky side-smirk. "...it would be his word against mine and well," The man uttered. "he's not talking, now is he." And it was all Cal could do to prevent himself from violently wiping the smug expression from the man's face.

"A slimy bastard like you?" Cal scoffed towards the man's sense of superiority. "I'm sure we'll get something to stick."

And...in the back of his mind...Cal vowed to do just that.


	21. Track 20: Ghost Regrets

**A/N: Aaaaaaand, I'm back! As to not ruin the feel of this particular chapter, I will have another note at the bottom. But, before delving into this update, I suggest you find and play the song "Broken Inside" by Broken Iris. The full song can be found on youtube posted under Dreginy Let's Plays. I feel that this particular song seems to encapsulate and embody Aden's story. So, enjoy!**

* * *

 _'You will always be fond of me. I represent to you all the sins you never had the courage to commit.'_

 _ _-Oscar Wilde__

It had all happened so suddenly. The way everything had come so spectacularly unraveled. Right before her very eyes. And she still couldn't believe even half of what she had just heard. Yet, as she watched the young woman stumble out of the interrogation room, Ria felt the ramifications of each and every word the man had spoken. It was written all over the young woman's face. Etched in the grief of her expression and the sounds of her anguished sobs. And Ria couldn't bear to even look. So she deviated her eyes towards Eli. But his expression was even more dismal. So filled with guilt and shame. Shaped in remorse. And Ria knew it was because he had brought the young woman here.

Had it been under different circumstances.

In _any_ other situation.

Ria might have had the urge to say 'I told you so.' To gloat, and revel in the fact that she had been right. That...Eli having brought this woman to Cal's interrogation had been a terrible idea, and would end badly. But...as their eyes met...Ria couldn't quite bring herself to act on this knee-jerk impulse.

Not now.

Not with this.

Not with everything that had just happened.

That she now knew.

That they _all_ knew.

The truth was just too awful.

And as Ria watched Eli escort the inconsolable young woman out of the laboratory, Gillian trailing behind to support, she was left in the wake of the momentary silence that followed before the sound of a disembodied voice filled the room. Muffled, as it came through the computer's sound system to draw her attention.

' _This doesn't change anything..._ '

Ria heard this lowly murmured from the man's lips as she gazed upon him through the computer's monitor. An expression akin to hatred etching his beguiling features as his icy gaze narrowed along Cal's back.

' _It doesn't change the fact that, no matter **what** I did, it was the kid's choice to jump._' She heard the man's low, muffled voice through the sound system as he continued. ' _He did it to himself._ '

' _Yeah..._ ' Cal's voice manifested in an oddly disembodied replied with a heavy sigh of resignation. ' _He did._ ' Through the computer's monitor, Ria saw him give the hang of his head as it almost touched glass before turning away from the door to look the man in the eye. ' _But **you** gave him a **bloody** good push, **didn't** you._'

' _Yeah, well..._ ' The man murmured, holding Cal's angered stare. ' _Good luck in actually **proving** that._' He said with the small smirk of a smile. ' _I doubt anything said here today has legal backing. And whatever I **might** have said or **not** said to the kid is purely speculative._' This came smugly confident as the man continued lowly. ' _I mean...the last time **I** talked to the kid, it was just him and I in my office. So, really..._' He murmured through a cocky side-smirk. ' _...it would be his word against mine and well,_ ' The man uttered. ' _he's not talking, now is he._ '

' _A slimy bastard like you?_ ' Ria heard Cal's angered disembodied response as he scoffed towards the man's sense of superiority. ' _I'm sure we'll get something to stick._ '

Before the man had the opportunity to respond or so much as offer a snide retort to this threat, Ria watched Cal swiftly turn his back to him. He then stalked towards the door and threw it open before stepping out of that glass interrogation room and slammed it closed behind him. Leaving the man alone. And the look on Cal's face was absolutely unmistakable...

...even to the untrained eye...

He was livid. And...he was looking for someone to take it out on. As he locked eyes with her, Ria withered and shrank back. Fearful of coming under the fire of his anger.

"Oi!" He raised his voice to her as Ria attempted to hold her ground against his obvious animosity towards the man in the glass room. "Agent Reynolds in?" Cal asked, and Ria gave the slight bob of her head with furrowed brows.

"Yeah." She murmured lowly. "He should be." And she watched how the line of his lips grew taut.

"Right." He said dryly through the audible sigh pushed through his nose. "He can make himself useful then, yeah?" Cal retorted sardonically towards The Lightman Group's federal liaison, Ben Reynolds, before stalking off to find the man.

Leaving Ria alone in the wake of deafening silence.

With _him_ , though she couldn't see him through the opaque, milky glass. But Ria sensed his all-consuming presence within the room before it was given life and breath through the muffled voice from the computer's sound system as he spoke.

' _Cal._ ' The man called out to the empty room through the stifled muffle of the computer's sound system as Ria watched him on the monitor. ' _Calvin._ ' The tone of his voice gave the slightest hint of irritation at having been left without something or someone to push against. ' _Come on._ ' He lowly uttered this coaxing taunt that begged for a reaction as he gave a hard stare towards the door Cal had just left through.

As if he believed that Cal was just outside the room, listening to him.

' _You can't keep me in here forever._ ' He said to the door as Ria watched him continue to seethe deep beneath the surface before he gave a short, sharp snort of exasperation. ' _What exactly do you think you're going to charge me with?_ ' The man asked to no one. ' _Murder?_ ' He scoffed sarcastically to this idea. ' _The kid did it to himself. **I** didn't **do...anything.**_ ' These words came slowed and deliberate before he fell into silence, as if waiting for a reply that Ria knew would never come.

Her legs seemed to gain a life of their own. Willing her into motion towards the calamity held captive within that room. Ria's slowed approach was filled with apprehension and the sound of her feet moving forward towards the door of the glass interrogation room turned cage. And the man inside, turned villain. But as Ria's hand grasped the handle, she hesitated in opening the door to let herself in.

This man. Within the span of this investigation, he had somehow managed to strangely connect himself to her. Intertwine himself into the very fabric of her life. Her world. He'd gained a level of power over her, and, she didn't even know exactly when that had happened.

Had it been during Gillian's meeting with him? Where he'd apparently taken notice of her, noticing him. The first time she'd ever seen him in person. Their very first meeting.

Had it been at the club? Where he'd singled her out at the bar. Approached her. Picked her out of the crowd. Then...began slowly romancing her.

Had it been the morning after? Where she'd received an unsolicited call from him, not having realized that her defenses had been lowered to the point of unwittingly giving him her number the night before. When he'd asked about her well-being, courting her in hopes of receiving more of her time in the form of another rendezvous.

Had it been at his studio? Where he'd somehow managed to entice her into a date with him through coercion and the promise of giving her what she'd been sent for.

Had it been during the dinner date that followed? Where they'd indulged in food, drinks, and their shared gift of detecting deception. Truth and lies. When he'd continued to woo her. Romance and seduce her. When, without shame or a moment's hesitation, he'd willingly laid himself bare to her talent in the way he'd revealed the full extent and depths of his sexual desire for her. A ravenous, animal hunger for her body that he'd felt little need to hide from her.

Had it been right before this very interview? Where he'd managed to wear down her resolve with his undaunted persistence. When she found herself agreeing to at least entertain the idea of another date with him. An actual date with him.

Or...

Maybe...

He had been systematically taking little bits and pieces of her with each and every one of their encounters. Every single time he'd had her. Every time they'd been together. And Ria knew, without a doubt, that she needed to take back what was hers. What he'd stolen...before his just fate came to claim him and this inexplicable connection between them was severed. Forever. But she hesitated...opening this door. Because, knowing who she faced, she felt so very weak and powerless.

She remembered the last time she had ever felt that way.

And...she had promised herself that she would never again let a man have that level of power over her. Ever. Yet, here she was. A place in her mind where the line was blurred between victim and survivor. And she wasn't quite sure which one she was in this moment.

She wanted to be strong. To be able to retrieve the little bits and pieces that had been taken from her. Ria wanted to embrace the strength of being a survivor.

But...

Did that mean that she would have to acknowledge the weakness she felt at having first been made a victim?

Taking a cleansing breath through her nose, Ria slowly released it through her full, parted lips before finally turning the handle of the door to let herself in. And she saw how the man had moved to the far end of the room, his back to the door before swiftly turning towards her arrival. From the expression of his face, Ria could tell that he had been expecting Cal. Though when he saw her, his features soften and relaxed somewhat as he artfully constructed a more neutral expression.

"Ria?" The tone of his voice came to match the man's neutrality, though he kept his distance and stayed on his side of the interrogation room.

His vibrant, pale oceanic eyes searched her face. Lingered along her features, almost curiously so, before lowering themselves along her body back up to her face. Then, the smallest twitch of an alluring side smile played along his lips before they parted for him to speak.

"It doesn't look like you and I will be having those drinks tonight." He lowly murmured this in a playfully teasing tone, causing Ria to scowl at this little jest.

"Yeah, no." She quipped tersely. "We won't." This came uttered flatly from her full, Latina lips as the man's brows infinitesimally knit together.

"What's the matter?"

"I heard." She whispered. " _Everything_." Lips trembled over these words in restrained anger smothered in shame and regret. "Every _single_ word you said."

"Oh..." This came through the deepening of his voice. " _That_..." He said in a nonchalant, monotonous drawl. "So..." This preceded the upturn of the corner of his lip in a suave, pleased-with-himself smile as he began to slowly make his way to her from across the room. "Now you know." He said. "Does it disappoint you?" He gave the small cant of the head as he moved ever closer towards her. "That I'm not the man you thought I was?"

"No." Ria whispered, finding her voice far weaker than she had intended with this admittance as her dark burnished gaze held exotic pale blue. "I'm disappointed because you're _exactly_ the man I thought you were..." Her brows furrowed as the man continued his slowed, predatory pace towards her.

Those depthless pools of pale blue once again searched Ria's face with almost childlike curiosity. Though his devilishly handsome, beguiling features remained almost frighteningly without emotion of any kind as he stared at her. Regarding her, for a moment, in cool impassivity before he gave the quirk of a dark, finely groomed brow.

"... _and_..?" This one-word question came on bated breath, forcing Ria to admit to the truth she had tried so hard to avoid.

"And..." Ria sighed, lowing her dark gaze from that perforating stare to his treacherous lips. "...I wish that you weren't." And the faintest sound of a chuckle emanated from the man's chest through his throat.

"Mm..." He gave a passive hum through the titillating smile he offered her. "I see." The man murmured, taking another slowed step in her direction as his gaze roamed over her a moment. "It's good to know." He said with a small pause before his eyes found hers once more. "That I was right."

"Right about _what_?" Ria quipped bitterly as she held her ground against this man and his advances.

" _You_." He answered quietly, his eyes never leaving hers as he moved ever closer. "You see," This came a light whisper through thin, perfect lips. "I have a knack for knowing when someone hates me." He said. "I can tell that your boss hates me." He murmured lightly with another step that held all of the masculine confidence he had commanded the first time he had dared to approach her at the club. "And that little bitch ' _supposedly_ ' dating McCaffery?" He scoffed towards the deceased's lover, the woman who had struck him. "Yeah...she _really_ hates me." His words came drenched in condescension laced in a level of pride over this fact before his voice lowered in contemplation. "The kid hated me, too." He crept ever closer to her, like a lethal predator stalking it's prey. "But _you_?" This came through an alluring cockeyed smirk. "You don't." He said, pausing mere inches from her now. "Hate me." And Ria gave herself over to a bitter snort of disbelief towards this man's ego.

"Wanna bet?" She countered haughtily through the scowl that shaped her features.

And the man. He laughed at this. Her futile attempt at protest.

"Please." This came a subdued, chuckled scoff. "Come on, Ria." He playfully chided her as those hypnotic eyes held her captive against the glass wall. "You don't hate me." He said. "You _want_ to hate me." This came through the lowering of his voice to a whispered breath. "But...you don't." He said. "And judging by the look on your face..." He whispered, staring her down. "...you know that I'm right."

"Even if you are..." Ria gave a whispered hiss of agitation as she glared at him with a petulant expression. "Right." She said. "It doesn't change anything." And the man gave himself over to a chuckle that faded along a sigh as he bit along his lower lip with the slight hang of his head and a downward glance.

"No." He agreed with the shake of his head. "I suppose it doesn't." Eyes lifted from the floor to meet hers once more as he spoke.

"So..."

This singular utterance came low. Long and drawn out, as he braced himself with his left hand pressed against the opaque glass behind her. Those pale, oceanic eyes never leaving her in this sickeningly exhilarating stare down that caused her heart to race and her breath to grow thready, though she tried to hide it. Tried. And failed. And Ria saw how he enjoyed this. Witnessing her failure in the face of his advances. How he seemed so adept...a virtuoso, really...in eliciting a reaction from her. Whether she wanted to respond or not.

"I guess that's it then." This came whispered from his lips as he held her dark gaze, his expression breathtakingly impassive before the faintest lift at the corner of his lip trailed lazily along his next words. "...pity..." He said, his eyes lowering along her body before coming back up to meet her irritated expression. "Because you were the only one that seemed to really get me." Dark, thin, well-groomed brows knit together as he said this, staring her down with that probing gaze of his. "Being _so_ much alike..." He whispered, leaning infinitesimally towards her as he lowered his voice. "Getting inside each other's heads..." The gap between his body and hers shrank as he effortlessly eased himself into her personal space. "Under each other's skin..." Ria glowered at him, tucking her chin defiantly with the scathing look she held. " _You_..." The man continued with indifference to the discomfort he caused her as he spoke. "Knowing _exactly_ what I want." This came through lips shaped in a bewitching simper of a smile, his handsome, captivating face mere inches from her now as she felt the body heat between them come in waves. "Coming _so_ close to actually giving it to me." She bit her lower lip along what she heard him say, his eyes overtly drifting there as the scowl deepening along her features with how profoundly his words affected her. "It's just such a shame that it has to end this way." He lamented almost ruefully through a sigh. "We would have been _so_ good together."

"You _really_ think it would have actually worked out between us?!" Ria retorted angrily towards this man's seemingly delusional fantasy of the two of them being together. " _Seriously_?!" And the man chuckled, the breath produced from his amusement tickling Ria's skin as he gave another alluring smile to her, leaning just a little closer.

"Absolutely not." He said. "I always knew it would end horribly between us." He admitted to this destructive outcome as he held her gaze, his eyes seemingly searching hers for a moment before he spoke again. "But..." This came a contemplative sigh through his nose. "...it would have been fun while it lasted."

"You know..." The man whispered over the brief, momentary pause that had befallen this conversation. "At dinner. When you'd said that having sex with me would have been a mistake." This intimate reminder caused Ria to drop her gaze downward and to the side as she looked away from him before her dark gaze captured movement in her peripheral. "A mistake that you'd end up regretting," This hushed tone reserved for lovers came paired with the gentlest touch of fingertips to her face as Ria felt the man almost tenderly command her gaze towards him with the same had that had been so swiftly raised in an attempt strike another woman across the face. "you and I _both_ know that there was at least a part of you that still wanted to..." Their eyes met, and Ria absorbed the seriousness of his expression as he called her out on what they both knew to be true. "So, I have to wonder. When this is all over," His brows lightly furrowed in curiosity over the slowed pace of his words. "if...what you'll _really_ end up regretting...is never knowing."

"Never knowing _what_?" Ria countered as she stared the man down angrily, though found her self slowly losing the strength and conviction she had wanted to arm herself with in this war against him.

"What we _might_ have been after that night." He said. "Had you just stayed." The disarming warmth of his touch as his thumb gently grazed her cheek came so horribly offset with the way he looked at her with those frigid oceanic eyes. "All the endless possibilities."

"Please..." She breathed as she felt his thumb ghost along her trembling bottom lip. "Just stop."

"...you know what I think..?" He asked with a little smile before Ria felt his nose and lips brush along her cheek in order to move close enough to whisper in the sensitive shell of her ear.

Words that robbed her of breath as she listened. Words that would never make their way to anyone else but her. Meant only for her. A secret he shared with her. A raw revelation of herself before his face loomed mere inches from hers once more. Those eyes holding her attention to absorb her reaction to what he'd just told her. The befuddled heartbreak that etched itself along her features. And...Ria saw his expression shape into something that looked almost like empathy towards her pain.

Almost.

Yet the reflected mirror image of herself that she had once seen in him was shattered with what he had done. The illusion of him faded to reveal the horrible truth. That she had _never_ been able to see him clearly because of who he was and what he reflected back to her. Until now, when the glass had been shattered. And these jagged shards of who he really was shred her into oblivion as she felt them crumble and fall around her.

And, as if intending to ease her pain, he brought their lips together in a fleeting moment of genuine warmth and tenderness. This kiss. It was sweet. And soft. And warm. And everything Ria knew this man wasn't. She _knew_ he wasn't kind, benevolent, _or_ tender. No. Not _this_ man. He was violence. And sex. Balanced on the edge of the blade of a knife.

So, the unexpected sweetness of this moment caused her full Latina lips to part against his in a sigh, and the man took this as invitation to deepen the kiss. Their lips working against each other as she felt her body slowly pressed up against the glass before the palm of her hand found itself flat against his chest to lay claim to some small semblance of her personal space.

Space between the thinning line between him...and her sanity.

The tanned mahogany of her skin came in contrast to the crisp, clean white of his button-down business shirt before the pale hand that once lay against her cheek came at rest over her own. The two breathing as one, so close to each other as he held her hand against his chest where she had placed it for distance between them.

"What was _that_..?" Ria breathed weakly, avoiding the man's gaze for fear of seeing herself reflected in his eyes as he whispered his response.

"Only what I'd wanted to do during dinner at the hotel." He replied quietly. "...what I _should_ have done..." This came uttered lowly through the deafening silence that followed before her name came whispered from his lips. "Ria..." Thick, dark lashes fluttered against her waning resolve as delicate brows knit together under the weight and fatigue of this battle she had tried to wage against him.

"Kris..."

Ria heard the man give an audible sigh in her ear in response to the way his name had so helplessly passed her lips. And the mere sound of this auditory exhalation seemed to so completely unravel her thoughts before this bizarre, profoundly intimate moment was shattered through the harsh intrusion of a raised voice from just outside of the room.

" _Oi_!"

This bellowed announcement caused the man to drop his hand from Ria's own before he gave a small half step back from her. Separating himself from her as her own hand fell limply to her side, Ria watched those pale blue eyes look right past her and through the open door of the glass interrogation room.

"I've already told you not to muck about with my staff!" Cal harshly chastised towards the scene he'd walked in on as Agent Reynolds stood next to him with a similar expression of disapproval, yet the man merely offered an infinitesimal smirk of a smile.

"Relax, Cal." The man uttered lowly, meeting Cal's gaze head on with that same condescending cockeyed smirk. " _She's_ the one who came in to see _me_..." And Ria was stunned and ashamed at how this revelation of truth made her feel so strangely betrayed.

The way he had so readily thrown her under the proverbial bus, in front of her boss of all people, felt like such a brutal slap to the face. And, though it had admittedly been the truth, it still hurt. That the man had so heartlessly exposed her to leave her bare. Vulnerable. Naked. And Ria couldn't help but stare at him as he looked right through her out the open door.

As if she were nothing.

"I'm sure she did." She heard Cal quip bitterly from just outside of the interrogation room as she held herself against the protective veil of opaque glass. "Popular man like you," His voice came drenched in snarkish sarcasm and that British accent. "makes all sorts of friends, right?" Ria heard him say. "Well, here's another one for you." She silently listened as Cal spoke, her eyes remaining fixated on the man's eerily dispassioned expression. "I'd like you to meet Agent Ben Reynolds. Of the FBI."

"The FBI?" The man scoffed, though seemed unconcerned about the implications of Agent Reynolds' involvement. " _Really_ , Calvin?" He said with the imperceptible lift of the corner of his lip as he took another small step back from Ria before moving towards the open door.

And as the man casually sauntered into the outer room of the computer lab towards Cal and Agent Reynolds, Ria pushed herself off of the glass wall and slowly slunk towards the threshold. Her gaze burrowed into the man's back as she heard him speak.

"You see?" Ria heard this lowly murmured from the man's lips as he spoke to Cal in a cocky tone. "I just _knew_ that you'd gotten too close to this." His voice came cold and impassive, yet smug in his chastisement. "That you'd made the kid's suicide personal." Ria absorbed the brief pause, the silence heavy and oppressive as she watched her employer fixate his eyes along the music producer's face before the man spoke again.

Quietly.

Just above a whisper.

"Still wonder why that is..." The man curiously mused to himself as Ria witnessed Cal's lips form a taut line of repressed anger.

"Agent Reynolds." Cal dramatically addressed The Lightman Group's government liaison to deflect the man's goading nature. "I trust I don't have to tell you to do whatever it is I'm bloody paying you for?"

"With _this_ guy?" Agent Reynolds scoffed as Ria watched him size up the band's music producer, his expression laced in disgust towards the man. " _Hell_ no." And Cal gave the audible pop of his lips.

"Good." Cal said with the side-nod of the head. "Right then. Off with you, and take the bloody trash with you."

With that, Ben Reynolds stepped forwards towards the man to claim him, and Ria found herself holding firm to the threshold of the glass room. Watching as the man slowly followed Agent Reynolds, led out of the room before he paused briefly to glance over his shoulder. Not at Cal. But at her. And as their eyes met, he smiled.

"Bye, Ria."

And just like that, he was gone. Having left Ria with yet another missing piece in the form of a stolen kiss and thoughts of what could have been. And it was in that fleeting moment, when he looked at her and smiled, that Ria understood. What it must have felt like.

The allure.

The seduction.

The sense of ambiguous duality.

The push and pull.

The loss of self.

The madness and chaos.

The confusion.

The doubt and second guessing.

The horrific sense of violation.

The pain of being so completely taken by this grand illusion...despite having known better.

The heartache.

And...finally...the sudden but inevitable sense of betrayal.

In that fleeting moment when he smiled at her, _just_ before turning away, Ria felt it. In the way her entire world had just crumbled and fallen apart before her very eyes. And it was then, in that very moment, that she was absolutely certain of one thing.

She had gotten too close.

...to him...

An exquisite creature, more animal than man.

This beautifully grotesque monster.

Her ' _almost_ ' lover.

And Ria absolutely _hated_ herself for this.

Standing on the cusp between illusion and reality, she felt herself grow paralyzingly numb with the absence of him. Ria finally understood, in some small part, what the young man must have endured. What he must have felt. His desperate search for an exit. An escape. Some way out of this life.

And...

She understood, in part, why he had ultimately decided to take his own life.

* * *

 **A/N: Okay. Another note! So, I have to share some levity with all of you. And...if you know me...or are getting to know me...you know that this bit of humor from yours truly will be a bit messed. But, recently, while working on this story, something quite funny struck me. So, if any of you have ever watched Futurama, you may know what I'm talking about. Picture it. In the episode 'How Hermes Requisitioned His Groove Back' there's Hermes. Standing on top of the Planet Express building screaming 'I'm gonna jump!' Then, off in the distance on the sidewalk below, you hear Bender yell back 'Do a flip!' Now, HOW exactly is this relevant to my work?**

 **...you tell me...**

 **And I digress... Aaaaaanywho! Thank you all for reading this latest update! Honestly, I hadn't really planned on an entire chapter dedicated to Ria and Kris after the interrogation. Which prolonged the story by a chapter. But, I really felt it was necessary to give this thing between them some sort of closure. So I hope you all enjoyed that! That being said, a special thank you goes out to my dear friend 'StringInRepair' for her help with this particular chapter. I frequently use her as a consultant on these type of chapters, and she has never once let me down!**

 **And finally, thank you all for your generous support of this story! For my first time in this fandom, you have all been incredibly kind to me. So, thank you for that!**

 **P.S. If I happened to offend and or otherwise piss anyone off with this chapter. I'm sorry (not sorry).**


	22. Track 21: Ghost Affections

**A/N: This chapter brought to you by Breaking Benjamin "Rain" and the letter 'L'.**

* * *

 _" _There is a ghost here. A lonely, heartbroken spirit. The ghost of everything that could've been and never was."__

 _-Jennifer Donnelly 'The Tea Rose'_

Cal stalked through the halls of The Lightman Group building. _His_ building. His domain and sanctuary. And he knew that, in every corner of his house, it had just been rocked from its very foundation. But this hadn't been the first time. Nor, Cal knew, would it be the last. There would always be another case. Another perpetrator. Another victim.

...another liar...

Yet he was the biggest liar of them all. Because he was planning on walking out of here pretending as if he were completely untouchable. Indestructible. As if none of this affected him on a deep, personal level. As if it didn't tear him up inside. As if this were just another case. One he could easily put down and walk away from at the end of this day.

Making his way towards his office, Cal passed by the main lobby lined in expressive faces. And among them, out of the corner of his eye, stood a dark, silent figure dressed in black. Tall and lanky, the clearly male form stood frozen in Cal's lobby, as if suspended in a single moment in time. A motionless statue amongst the pictures with his back to Cal. Seemingly gazing at the photographs, this dark presence caught in his peripheral immediately gained Cal's attention as he did a double take in his passing. But when he looked again the eerie, looming figure was gone.

"Oi!" Cal shouted. "Anna?!" He loudly called to The Lightman Group's secretary as his brows knit together towards the way this phantom had just vanished.

"Yes, Doctor Lightman?" Anna's voice could be heard responding a short distance away as Cal turned in the opposite direction of his office in order to speak with her.

"Was someone just in the lobby, love?" He asked, and Anna gave the small shake of her head.

"No." Anna replied. "No one's been in since your scheduled interview this morning." She said before her expression shifted subtly. "Well..." Anna mumbled lightly in self-correction. "No one else except for the young woman who wanted to talk to you." She said, looking to Cal with a hesitant expression. "I tried to explain to her that you were busy, but she insisted on seeing you." Her voice lowered with these words. "Eli said that he was going to take care of that." She faltered a moment under the look Cal must have given her as her words came guarded in an attempt to avoid Cal's chastisement of her screening process.

"That's alright, love." Cal responded with a huffed sigh of exhaustion as his gaze drifted away from her towards the photo-frames once more.

"Doctor Lightman?" The faint call of his name trickled through the thoughts running rampant in his mind.

"Hm..?" Cal gave a passive, distracted hum as he gave a narrowed-squinted stare to the empty space where he was certain someone had just been standing.

"...are...you okay?" This question came slowed and weighted in concern as it drew Cal's attention back to the one who had asked it.

"Yeah." He mumbled. "I'm fine, love." His eyes darted along her face as he said this. "Hunky dory and all that, yeah?" He offered the woman a half-hearted, taut-lipped smile. "If anyone else _does_ come around, go on and send 'em to Loker, aye?" This directive fell bitterly sardonic from Cal's lips towards Eli's unwanted intervention. "He's done a bang-up job of managing traffic through our doors so far, so might as well have him make a day of it." With an awkward, wordless nod from Anna, Cal swiftly turned on his heels to dismiss himself in the direction of his office once more.

In an attempt to shake off the cold and uneasiness that he had experienced...with what he was so sure he had just seen...Cal continued the slowed approach to his office. And immediately he noticed the woman loitering just outside the room. A puffed sigh passed through his lips as the two met each others gaze across the distance of the hallway. And Cal knew, without a doubt, that he was in trouble with her. Rightfully so, as he had so shamelessly misrepresented and twisted the nature of this woman's relationship with him. But, like this case that had completely leveled him, this too would not be the first or last time he would be in trouble with his business partner. Nor would it be the last time he would need to make amends for his actions while in pursuit of the truth.

Because the truth hurt. Always. As did all of the lies often told in order to discover and root it out in others.

"Cal..." He heard the soften edge of Gillian's voice as she called his name.

"Gill." This response came subdued in tone as his eyes searched the infinitesimal curves and lines of her face.

A face he knew he could read like the back of his own hand.

"I suppose you need an apology?" Cal mumbled quietly as he absentmindedly rubbed the back of his neck.

"Yeah." Gillian breathed, her gaze flitting to her shoes with the bob of her head. "I do." The veiled hurt in her voice came acknowledgment of Cal's mistake in having used her as leverage in his earlier interview. "But you can apologize later." She said. "Right now, there's someone else who needs you more." With this, Gillian lifted her gaze from the floor as she peered at him through her lashes.

"The girl?" This came a hushed whisper as his own gaze drifted towards the closed door of his office.

"Yeah." Gillian whispered just as quietly with the small nod of her head.

"How's she holding up, love?" Cal asked, his brows knit in concern over the deceased's lover.

The young woman who had come to him for help. For answers. For the truth.

"Not well." Gillian answered honestly with the shake of her head. "She's completely devastated." With this another sigh escaped through Cal's nose.

"Have you talked to her yet?" He asked.

"A little." Gillian conceded in a quiet whisper. "But," She gave the breath of a pause as she held Cal's gaze. "I don't think it's someone like me that she needs to be talking to right now."

"Oh?" Cal found himself searching her face for answers as to what she might be inferring, though he already knew.

"She doesn't need a professional." Gillian murmured. "Not right now, anyway." She countered with the look she'd been given. "What she needs to get her through this loss is someone to reach her on a more personal level." Gillian whispered with the lowering of her voice.

"You've dealt with loss before." Cal murmured in quiet rebuttal as he watched her gaze drop to the floor, both of them knowing exactly what he was talking about.

"The loss of Sophie's different." Gillian uttered the name of her almost-daughter through a heartbreaking whisper. "She's still alive." This came along the breath of a pause as Gillian bit along her lower lip in contemplation of her next words. "But this young woman's boyfriend isn't."

"Yeah." Cal breathed. "I know." As he said this, Gillian's eyes slowly raised towards his face, her expression a mix of rueful sorrow.

"I really think you're the one that needs to talk to her." Her gaze implored him as she spoke. "And I know how much this case has affected you." She said, and Cal found himself not wanting to lie and say that it didn't. "...what it's taken out of you..." Gillian paced her words, choosing them carefully. "So, I wouldn't be asking you to do this if I didn't truly believe that it was in this girl's best interest." As the two exchanged a knowing glace of wordless communication, Cal finally gave a small sigh of defeat to Gillian's profound logic.

"Looks like that's my cue to bugger off..." He murmured in quiet resignation to her suggestion to speak to the young woman inside of his office.

Gillian gave the faintest sign of a saddened smile in recognition towards these familiar words. Ones Cal had spoken to her just before walking on stage to address the eager masses at the Nevada convention. The conference on suicide research and prevention. The very same one that had been the catalyst to lead them down this ill-fated investigation.

"So bugger off." She whispered back to him as he gave the hang of his head and a small nod.

"Right then."

With the encouraging dismissal from his business partner and friend, Cal turned to face the closed door of his office. Fingers wrapped around the doorknob, and he braced himself for what lay in wait for him. With the turmoil he had seen along the young woman's face before having sent her away, Cal imagined that the scene inside of his office would be anything but pleasant. And when he finally _did_ open the door, the grief within that room was so completely palpable. As if he had just run headlong into a brick wall.

Pushing through this barrier of grief as he closed the door quietly behind him, Cal's eyes took in the sight of the young woman hovering at his desk. He watched her a moment as her eyes darted intently along all of the photographs strewn along the surface of his desk. The endless, monochromatic stills of the same face that had been marred and marked up by his notes in black sharpie. The same person. The one she had lost. And as Cal looked at her looking at them, the young woman stifled a small tremble of finger-laced lips. He could tell that she was aware of his presence in the room, and, he could also sense that she needed just one more moment with the dead. With a small sigh and some reluctance, Cal finally decided to gently disturb this somber moment between the two lovers as he spoke.

"How are you doing, love?" This gentle question caused the young woman's lashes to flutter as she gave the small twitch of her head.

Yet she remained silent a moment, seemingly unable to speak, before she had managed to gain the strength needed to pull herself from the very depths of this despair.

"I miss him, Doctor Lightman." This came heartbrokenly whispered through her fingertips as she gazed upon the pictures. " _So_ much." She gave a shuddered sigh before her next words came raw in a breathless rush, her soft features contorted under the heavy weight of her emotions. "But I just feel _so_ angry." Her voice had gained some semblance of strength as she said this, her fingers finally drifting from her lips to furl in a small fist as her expression now furrowed to the photographs of her boyfriend. "He was right, wasn't he?" She gave this whispered hiss to the silent pictures. "That awful man..." Her eyes finally lifted towards Cal, reddened and puffed from all of the tears she had shed. "He was right about Aden, wasn't he, Doctor Lightman?" She asked through the quiver of her lower lip. "Aden didn't trust me..." Cal held her heartbroken gaze as she spoke. "...did he..?" He saw how she looked to him for some form of confirmation or rebuttal.

"What that man said about your boyfriend, right?" Cal paced himself in this reply as he held the young woman's questioning gaze. "When he wasn't there to say a _bloody_ thing about it..." He said. "He only did that because he wanted to hurt you, love. Truth or not." This fell somber from his lips as they held each others gaze. "So...I mean..." Cal gave the flip of his hand with a shrug. "I wouldn't trust a single word that comes out of his mouth, if I were you." As he said this, Cal noticed how it had little effect in the way of alleviating the young woman's pain.

"He lied to me." She merely breathed as her eyes came downcast to the photos once more. "About everything." Her voice came dismal and hurt with this revelation. "He lied to me when he'd said that his father was dead..." She whispered. "He _never_ told me _anything_ about his past..." This came another heartbroken accusation. "...or his _mother_..?" The young woman's expression came weighed down by everything she had just found out about her lover after his untimely passing. "Or about what was happening to him at work." She gave the baffled shake of her head as she attempted to make sense of things.

"I shared _everything_ with him." She whispered, her expression pained as she said this. "And he never told me the truth about _anything_."

"Right..." Cal murmured with a pensive tone as he forced himself to consider his words carefully. "My dad...right?" He began as the young woman continued to look at the photos along his desk. "He was a mean drunk, he was. And when he'd come home, you know, _drunk_..." He said with a small, reflective pause before he continued this tale. "...he'd like to knock my mum around a bit," His voice lowered along the next part of this personal horror story. " _before_ he'd start in on me."

 _This_ was what it had taken to _finally_ gain her full attention away from the photographs as her gaze turned towards him, a look of mild shock along her face. As the two held each others gaze in a moment of silent comprehension, Cal gave the young woman some time to absorb what he had just disclosed to her before he continued with the point of his story.

"And, love..?" There came another small pause as he gave her a pointed stare. "I didn't talk about what'd happened to me for a _very_ long time." He said. "Not with my mates." His eyes narrowed and darkened with the infinitesimal shake of the head as he continued. "And _certainly_ not with the women I got myself involved with..." Cal allowed himself to feel the vulnerability of this moment as he shared this personal experience. "When you live in _that_ kind of hell, love," He paused with a small nonverbal gesture towards his head before he spoke again. "it changes how you think, right? How you start to see people _and_ yourself. It leaves a mark." These words came with a heaviness in him that had been stirred and provoked with the details and events of this case. "...a darkness." He murmured lightly, now the one to look away. "And so you learn not to talk about it." He said. "So sure..." This came with the dramatized side-bob of his head. "...the lies and secrets start out of self preservation. Cause, you know, you don't trust another living soul. But those secrets? That darkness, right? It becomes like a bloody virus. Like...an infectious disease. And then you..." Cal took a sharp inhalation, finding himself somewhat unprepared for how this disclosure had emotionally effected him as his own brows furrowed under the weight of this personal burden he still shouldered. "You start to become _so_ convinced that you're somehow gonna infect everyone else around you. And...it scares you, love. It bloody _terrifies_ you. That constant thought that you're gonna completely muck up the ones you care about." He slowed his pace in these thoughts in hopes of offering the young woman some perspective and insight into the mindset of her lover's self-destructive, self-sabotaging mentality.

When he finally looked up, Cal witnessed how deeply what he'd just said had impacted this young woman. He saw how it did little to ease her pain and grief...to have been given some insight and understanding. In fact, it seemed that it had only managed made her sorrow that much more profound. Knowing. Being given just a taste of what it was like. To have it spelled out and explained to her. But, Cal also noticed something else in the young woman beneath this fresh grief. A small, subtle change. So...Gillian had been right. This was what the young woman had needed to hear, despite how badly it hurt her.

...despite what it had taken out of him to actually say it...

The blinding truth was that he had probably needed to tell her what he'd gone through _just_ as much as she had needed to hear about it in order to deal with the loss of her boyfriend. And Cal couldn't help but give the faintest half-hearted smile to this thought.

Gillian always knew what she was doing.

"I loved Aden _so_ much, Doctor Lightman." The woman uttered quietly through trembling lips and the quiver of her soft voice. "I would have loved him no matter what he'd gone through. He could have told me _anything_. _Nothing_ would have changed the way I felt about him." She looked to him, pleading with her gaze. "But was _any_ of it real?" She asked. "I mean..." This came a soft stutter. "...when he..." The woman faltered in her words as she tried to express her thoughts. "Doctor Lightman?" She implored with the same desperation she'd had the very first time she had met him. "Did he care about me at _all_ when he..." Cal saw how she couldn't even finish this agonizing question.

One Cal already knew, because it had been one he had already asked himself. More than once.

"I told you about my dad, yeah?" He murmured quietly to the young woman. "And my mum...well..." One of his hands began to absentmindedly rub the back of his neck as he spoke. "I guess my mum, she'd just had about enough. Sent herself to a mental hospital, right? So one day, you know, when I'm away at Uni, she gets a pass for the weekend. To go home." He said with the hang of his head and lowering of his voice with a sense of guilt and shame. "Decides to kill herself, right?" He gave the snap of his fingers as he said this like a magician willing something to vanish. "Just like that." His voice gave itself over to some dismay. "And I," He scoffed bitterly with the dismayed shake of his head. " _I_ had no bloody clue. Never even saw it coming, love." Cal held the young woman's gaze as he continued to speak. "And I asked myself all those same questions you've got, right?" He said with the point of his finger towards the endless questions written along the young woman's face. "Like... 'why did she leave me?' 'how did I miss all the signs?' 'why wasn't I enough?' 'did I even cross her mind when she, you know, offed herself?'." These questions came listed one after the other before he paused over the last one. "Did she really love me?" This last question was the singular uncertainty that now plagued this young woman's heart, Cal could see it written all over her face.

If her boyfriend had really been in love with her...then why had he decided to leave her behind by taking his own life.

"Did you ever find the answers?" She asked hesitantly with a fragile, questioning expression.

"Yeah, love. I did..." This came with a shrug. "Eventually." Cal answered. "My mum...she was an ill woman, right?" He said. "But, I know she loved me the best she could."

"And you believe that?" The woman questioned this, uncertainty in her tone, and Cal gave an audible sigh through his nose before he answered.

"Have to, love..." He said with the bob of his head before his voice dwindled to nothing as he looked away and down. "...have to..."

"Come on, love." Cal quietly coaxed, finally approaching where she stood before he gently ushered the young woman to the other side of his desk and guided her to sit in his office chair. "There's something I think you need to see."

As the young woman sat in his chair in front of the laptop computer on his desk, Cal eased himself beside her in order to access his keyboard. Wordlessly searching for an audio-video file buried within the depths of his computer, the young woman watched with silent anticipation. Taking a moment to find his place within the raw footage, Cal paused briefly in his actions as he finally came upon the scene he'd wanted to show the young woman. That she needed to see. One last key-stroke to cue up the footage, and Cal took a small step back as the scene on his computer monitor unfolded.

When the speakers sizzled and crackled, the image on the computer's screen came into focus. Along with a familiar male voice that came a disembodied narrator to the scene.

 **'This is what happens when you completely ignore my calls and texts, and refuse to get on board the party train.'** The disembodied voice of the young musician's friend, Gabriel, could be heard as the camera's view closed in on the exterior of an apartment door. **'The after-party train pulls up to your door and I come find you, man.'** The narrator said as they stealthily crept ever closer as the disembodied voice comically deepened and grew just a bit husky. **'You don't answer your phone. You fucking ignore me. And shit's gonna get real.'** A hand could be seen reaching for the doorknob from behind the camera's purview to test the handle, and a hissed cheer of victory was heard when the narrator had successfully gained entrance into the inner sanctum of the young man's home.

The camera's view opened up into the main living area bathed in the early morning light of September's sun that came from the large sliding door that opened to the young man's balcony.

… _the_ balcony...

And then...the camera operator panned over the scene of devastation that was the main living area. The chaos of a troubled mind. Clothing and dishes and bottles were strewn absolutely everywhere. And the dismay was evident in the narrator's voice.

 **'Dude...'** The disembodied voice addressed the inhabitant of this disaster. **'Your place is a fuckin' mess, man...'** This came in comical chastisement. **'Really, dude... Would it kill you to get someone to clean this place up?'** Cal watched the woman intently watch the screen with a look of curiosity as this funny little scene unfolded in front of her eyes.

 **'** **'Ello** **gov'na...'** The disembodied voice put on a thick, heavy faux British accent. **'What have we here?'** These words came lighthearted and amused as the camera continued to explore the environment in question.

"Man after my own heart, aye?" Cal lightly chuckled towards the cameraman's witty antics. "I rather like him." And he watched as the faintest smile lifted the corner of the young woman's lips towards her lover's friend.

"Yeah..." She responded just above a whisper, her eyes to the computer screen. "Me too."

 **'Well someone was throwing a wild party last night.'** The disembodied voice continued as the camera documented the mess before it.

Clothing.

More clothing.

Underclothing and intimate apparel.

Before the camera's lens narrowed and focused on an almost entirely empty glass bottle.

 **'Wait a minute...'** The young man's friend turned investigator as he spoke just above a barely audible hissed whisper. **'Red wine?'** The disembodied voice came a bit perplexed. **'What the fuck?'** This expletive came a quiet hiss in the early morning hour. **'Wine's not a party drink.'** The voice commentated critically before it took on a more humorous tone. **'Wine's for** **lurve** **-makin'.'** A snickered laugh followed this as the man worked to keep himself quiet, and the young woman's expression came so guarded and unsure of what she was about to see.

But...she watched anyway. Unable to look away as the footage continued to play on the monitor.

As the camera roamed along the various items and personal effects, some became intimately familiar to the young woman...along with the narrator. And the young woman bit along her lower lip as the voice behind the camera manifested in a low, drawn out whisper.

 **'No.'** The disembodied voice behind the camera gained excitement. **'No** **way** **!'** The young man's friend hissed quietly. **'Kate's back?!'** This came filled with almost childlike exuberance. **'Kate's back!'** He exclaimed in a stifled, giddy squeal. **'Yes!'** This came a fervent, whispered chant. **'Yes! Yes! Yes!'** Suddenly the camera lifted and panned with the narrator's eye just past the living area. **'Oh shit!'** This came another excitable hiss as the man stifled the threat of laughter. **'I think they're still here!'** As the camcorder crept slowly and deathly silent through the mess of the main living space, a singsong whisper came from behind the device. **'Bow chicka wow wow.'**

As the footage continued silent and unnarrated, the young woman looked on with an expression akin to complete mortification. As delicate fingertips came up towards her full, trembling lips her voice manifested quietly. Her eyes to the computer monitor as she spoke.

"This..." She faltered in her words with the flutter of her lashes. "Aden and I..." The young woman tried again as she attempted to explain. "We had been split over the summer, but, that afternoon..." She whispered quietly, indicating the time-frame of this footage captured in early September. "he'd called me." This came weighed with the emotions she felt. "We talked. _All_ night. And...We ended up reconciling and getting back together." She whispered through a soft, quivering voice as she shared this bittersweet memory. "He asked me to stay." The significance of this gesture from her lover wasn't lost on Cal with the way this young woman had mentioned it before looking away from the screen to gaze up at Cal from her seat. "Gabe filmed this?" Her expression looked slightly hurt and violated with this intrusion, and Cal merely gave a wordless nod to this question before nodding to the screen.

"Just keep watchin, love." He said. "Trust me." His voice came encouraging, gently coaxing the young woman as she turned towards the computer screen once more.

By the time the young woman's gaze had returned to the screen, the camera's operator had moved. Having strategically placed himself at such an angle that allowed for him to remain hidden, the camera's view offered a perfect shot into the young man's open-doored bedroom. As the lens closed in and magnified the darkened area, the fresh view came into clear focus. Silence filled the moment and Cal's office, except for the faint hissed static from the device as it filmed the unsuspecting young woman and her now deceased lover in the young man's bed. An intimate moment this young woman clearly hadn't been prepared to see, let alone share with anyone other than her lover as she stared wide-eyed at the screen, her cheeks beautifully flushed with the color of her embarrassment. Yet Cal said nothing, remaining silent as he allowed her to continue viewing this footage.

Because, despite how mortified this young woman clearly felt with this exposure, Cal had good reason for wanting her to see this captured moment.

As this new scene began to unfold within the early morning hour, the young man could bee seen underneath the covers of his bed, his face turned towards the camera as his expression came at rest in slumber. Along his bare chest came an attractive mess of blond curls as the young woman used him for a makeshift pillow, her own head slowly moving with the rise and fall of the young man's even breathing. The two slept together, completely unaware of their audience, before the young woman stirred and lifted her head from his chest. From the camera's angle the lovers were too far away for any discernible audio, but it was clear that she had spoken something because the young man's brows furrowed in disturbed sleep before his lips moved with no sound attached to them. What he said seemed to instigate the young woman, though, because she smiled before slowly moving underneath the covers to mount her petite body on top of his.

The young woman watching herself on the computer screen glanced away for a moment, seeming quite shy and self-conscious over watching this before reluctantly looking back to the footage. Yet as uncomfortable as the young woman looked now, watching this, the image captured and played back before her came so wholly innocent and almost childlike in its appearance.

Shoulders, arms, and part of her upper back came exposed on the film as her body came flush on top of her lover, her torso slightly propped under the covers to better gaze down upon him. Her disheveled tresses masked most of her expression when she said something else to her lover. And again, the young man's brows furrowed slightly as he seemed to be attempting to ignore her in hopes of more rest. Instead of being met with bitterness or resentment over being ignored, the young woman merely seemed to take this as a challenge from her lover. A challenge she quickly turned into a game as her lips met his exposed cheek with a flurry of kisses. In response, the young man's expression came etched with an amusing scowl of disapproval over her attempt to rouse him as he turned his head away from the camera. This movement caused a momentary ceasefire before the young woman generously showered the other cheek with love and affection. A low grumble of futile protest was picked up from the camcorder, and the young woman could be heard giggling before the narrator's voice came a silent, muted whisper.

 **'Dude...'** The disembodied voice whispered quietly as the playful displays of affection continued. **'So...I** **know** **you're gonna kill me when I show you this...but...'** This came faint as more distant muffled giggling was detected by the device. **'One day your guys' kids will thank me.'** The narrator whispered. **'So, do me a solid, bro, and name one of 'em after me, okay?'** And though the young woman's expression crumpled as if her heart had just been shattered, she laughed at this request as the footage fell back into silence.

As the scene progressed, the young man finally turned his face, and the two lovers regarded each other for a moment. Neither one seemed to be saying anything, and they stayed like this until long, black-tipped fingers stretched forward as the young man brushed the mess of morning curls from her face to tuck some of the rebellions strands behind her ear. And as the woman on camera blushed, so did the woman watching herself as she was pulled into a long, slow, intimate kiss from her lover. This kiss, where lovers lips met, was so raw and intensely passionate in its communication that Cal wasn't surprised when the woman briefly looked away. When their mouths separated, Cal watched as the young man in the footage said something that had made the young woman smile.

Cal paused the scene then, where the two gazed into each others eyes, and the young woman looked at him from over her shoulder with a myriad of emotions written along her face.

"Right there, love..." Cal pointed to the frozen image before looking to her. "What was it he'd said to you, just then, that made you smile like that?" The young woman looked away, back to the screen as a few, unobtrusive tears made their way down her soft cheeks and she replied without hesitation.

"He said 'I love you'."

Cal nodded to this as he watched how she looked at the computer's screen, his voice coming quiet yet determined as he spoke to her.

"When he told you that, love," Cal said. "he meant _every_ word." And the woman's voice manifested just above a barely audible whispered breath and a light flutter through the constellation of tears on her lashes.

"Then why did he leave me?"

When she asked this, Cal gave a defeated sigh. Giving a narrow squinted gaze to the screen, Cal attempted, in this moment, to choose his words very carefully.

"He wasn't thinkin clearly, love." Cal answered, his words weighed and measured as he spoke. "No one in their right mind wants to off themselves." He said. "But he was telling you the truth when he said he loved you." This came a quiet, comforting murmur of consolation. "It's right there, written all over his face."

With little else to say, Cal took a step back and briefly placed a gentle hand along the woman's shoulder before deciding to see himself out to give her a moment alone. Glancing over his shoulder before leaving, Cal witnessed how grief etched itself along the young woman's softer features through the silent tears she shed. He saw how she mourned her lover. Yet, in her grief, Cal also saw he had managed to give her closure.

Closure, and some semblance of peace.

* * *

 **A/N: You guys... You guys continue to keep me humble. Your constant support of this story is what really keeps me going, and I hope never to take that for granted. Because, I can honestly say that this story would not have come about to what it is now without you. Truly. So, as always, thank you.**

 **Again, apologies for any spelling or grammatical errors not intended. I always do my very best during the editing process...and...it rarely works out in my favor! Any masochists looking to be abused without pay, come talk to me about becoming my editor.**

 **As for this chapter, I had really planned on doing more with the concept of ghosts, and ghost appearances. Having Cal see Aden's ghost throughout this story. But, it never really felt appropriate until this chapter. So...there's that. Also, only two more chapters left! Are you as excited as I am?**

 **Until next time.**


	23. Track 22: Ghost Ramifications

**A/N: Hey! Look at me, making a quick(ish) update! For this chapter, it's kind of different, because I find myself being two songs about it. The song cover from Five Finger Death Punch of The Offspring's "Gone Away" would stylistically fit. But then I recently heard the song "Hurts Like Hell" by Fleurie, and I feel like, emotionally, this one resonates more closely to the sentiment and feeling I was trying for with this chapter. So, I don't know, and am curious as to what you guys think.**

 **On another note, thank yous!**

 **Thank you to Tangledupandsideways for your review of last chapter. You are the very first, my friend, to describe any part of my work as 'angst lite'. And...honestly...for some reason this gave me a pretty good chuckle. I MIGHT have been a little disheartened and thought that this meant I was losing my touch. But, honestly, it just made me smile! So thank you!**

 **Thank you to Fandom Angst, for reviewing this entire story despite not being fully aware of the Lie to Me fandom. I appreciate you, love. More than you know.**

 **Thank you to the guest reviewer. Whoever you are, you honor me with your words, my friend. Thank you.**

 **And finally, as always, apologies for any errors I missed in editing.**

 **Now, onward to the update!**

* * *

 _ _Lightman Group Headquarters__

 _ _Washington, DC__

 _ _Wednesday, January 24__ _ _th__ _ _, 2018__

Cal sat at his desk, making a show of intently staring at his computer screen, though there was nothing there worth looking at. The afternoon had grown so tediously quiet, and he absolutely detested it. These were the type of days that, in their silence, bred dark and dangerous thoughts.

It had been almost two months, to the day...

Two months, since he had unofficially concluded the McCaffery suicide case with the damning interview of the troubled musician's producer, Kristean Mitchell. And since then, the Lightman Group had only taken a handful of lesser cases. Nothing of notoriety. Nothing that stayed. Nothing nearly potent enough to wash him clean. Not yet, though he ran head long into every one that passed his desk hoping it might.

He had been able to make up for missing out on Thanksgiving with Emily at Christmas. And New Years Eve. But he still caught her from time-to-time, looking at him from their kitchen counter with a worried expression. He would just smile to her, and Emily would hesitantly smile back. And then they would both go on about their day.

And Gillian...

Gillian had finally stopped asking him how he was doing.

So, that meant that he was doing fine. They were all doing just fine. Things were finally beginning to return to normal. Just a bit more time. Or a catalysts. Another case, perhaps. One to grab his focus and take if off of the kid's death. He'd been down this road before. Sometimes it just took a little longer to get back on the right path. To move forward and past these things. But he always did. Eventually.

Or so he sat there telling himself...

That was, until the abrasive ring of his office phone startled him from his thoughts. As he picked up the telephone, an overly dramatic and somewhat put upon sigh pushed through his nose as a scowl scrunched up his features.

"Lightman." His voice came far harsher and strained than he had wanted as he answered his phone.

 _'So sorry to disturb you, Doctor Lightman.'_ He heard the slightly shaken voice of his secretary, and immediately he felt a pang of guilt and remorse.

It wasn't Anna's fault that he was having a bad day.

"What is it, love?" He asked in a softer tone in hopes calming the young woman on the other end of the line.

 _'Someone's here to see you.'_ Cal heard Anna murmured quietly into the phone. _'But he doesn't have an appointment.'_ And Cal couldn't help but smile at the fortuitous turn of events.

"That's alright, love." He said. "Send 'im in."

 _'Are you sure, Doctor Lightman?'_ This came a whisper of hesitation from Anna as Cal leaned himself back in his seat far enough to be able to stare at the ceiling as he spoke.

"Yeah." He practically groaned with the stretch of his body. "I'm sure." He said as his gaze continued to stare aimlessly at the ceiling of his office. "My schedule's clear as a bell, love." Cal lamented his lack of proper clientele as a small pause came from the other end of the line before Anna spoke.

 _'Alright.'_ He heard Anna murmur in a slightly credulous tone. _'I'll send him in.'_

"Thank you." Cal quipped crisply before hanging up on his secretary, righting himself into a more respectable sitting position in order to greet this latest prospective client.

He didn't have to wait long before a subtle knock came from the other side of the door.

"Come on in." Cal drawled, and at this beckon call the door came slowly opened.

Yet the mystery man who now stood at the threshold of Cal's office and darkened his doorway wasn't at all who he had been expecting. And he couldn't help the small, gruff colloquial curse that had slipped past his lips before he could catch it.

"Bullocks."

" _Excuse_ me?" These two words came a caustic, almost perplexed rebuttal to Cal's greeting.

This seemed an almost amusingly ironic mirrored reenactment of the first time he had met this man. Their first encounter, and the way Cal had so underhandedly introduced himself. The look of dismay along the man's face caused Cal to give a small, defeated sigh through his nose as he held the man's furrowed gaze.

"It's not you." Cal began before looking away with the dramatic wave of his hand. "Well, it _is_ you, but it's not your fault, mate." He said, making no further clarification of how this man hadn't exactly been the person he'd wanted to see.

Not on a day like today.

"Didn't think it was..." This came a deadpanned response with the lift of a single, pierced brow as the man stood his ground at the threshold of Cal's doorway. "...whatever _it_ is." And Cal couldn't help the light chortled laughter that bubbled up towards this man's saucy comeback.

"Come on in." Cal coaxed in a more inviting tone, his hand lifting to motion to one of the available chairs next to his desk. "Take a seat." With this affable invitation, the man slowly eased himself off of the framework of the door and entered Cal's office.

The deceased musician's bandmate and friend. The drummer of December's Child, Gabriel LaGrange. The man who had given Cal's team the footage that had inevitably lead them to instigate the band's music producer, Kristean Mitchell in his connection to the troubled artist's suicide. As he entered the room, moving at a slowed pace, Cal regarded his appearance. A look that had most likely taken far more time and effort than its haphazard presentation implied.

The waves of dark brown hair with the slightest hints of red and blond came tied up and bound high upon the top of his head in an almost purposeful messy bun that seemed to attractively accentuate his facial features. It looked as if maybe he'd let it grow slightly from the first and last time Cal had seen him. And it still seemed to be the crown jewel of his look. His pride and joy. And a solid foundation for the rest of his alternative style.

Clothing that sat somewhere between punk-rock, and grunge. The man sported a thin, light denim jacket, the sleeves coming rolled to his elbows. But the rest of his attire was dark. And somber. He wore a black, graphic undershirt. A loose, low cut tank with large, thick white wording that read 'Punk Rock Heavy Metal' in bold capitol letters that came stacked upon each other. And fitted black jeans that came paired with thick, fierce-looking black leather combat boots. The whole entire ensemble came finished and accessorized with a few, random wristbands and thick metal rings along his fingers.

A look, Cal thought as he appraised it upon the man's approach to his desk, that his friend might have liked.

As Gabriel sunk himself into the chair in front of Cal's desk, the closer proximity gave Cal a better view of the man's face. The faintest hints of attractive, stubbled growth was evident along his chin and jawline. Fresh since the last time Cal had seen him. And his face, it seemed...older. Weary, even, underneath his youthful features. As if a burden had been placed upon him that made a once-easy, natural smile difficult and arduous to come by. His hazel eyes lacked the light and juvenile mischievousness Cal had seen over the various recordings. Cal was looking into the eyes of a young man who's growth and maturation had happened quite abruptly.

"So..." The man murmured lightly as those hazel eyes held Cal's stare.

"Mn..." Cal grunted in response.

"You called me." He said.

"Mmhm." Cal agreed with a nod from behind his desk.

"A lot." The man added with the slight twitch of a smirk at the corner of his mouth.

"Well," Cal countered as he leaned himself back in his seat. "you've been a hard man to get a hold of, mate."

"Yeah." The man sighed as he finally looked away from Cal. "I know."

"I expected to see you a lot sooner." Cal admitted. "I've been meaning to get this to you." As he said this, he fished the man's camcorder from one of the drawers and slid the device across his desk to the man. "Thought you'd might want it back." He said, watching as the man leaned forward to grasp the camera with an oversized hand.

He looked the device over with a somber expression, as if he had momentarily forgotten that Cal were watching him. Turning it over before it finally came to rest in his lap as those eyes lifted towards Cal once more.

"Thank you." This came lowly murmured, and Cal gave the nod if his head in response to the show of appreciation.

"So where've you kept yourself, mate?" Cal asked quietly as he held the man's gaze.

"When Aden-" The man faltered a moment, quickly cutting himself off with a swift jerk of his head and small pause before rephrasing his words. "After I talked to you, I left town."

"Where'd you go?" The man's gaze drifted towards the device in his lap when he'd been asked this, his expression coming pensive.

"I went back to Detroit."

"Detroit?" Cal asked with the curious furrow of his brows as the man nodded wordlessly.

"Yeah." He said before his eyes lifted from the camcorder in his lap. "To be with my mom." Those eyes filled with a myriad of emotions as the man began to speak of his mother. "She loved him. _So_ much. And she took his death _really_ hard." His voice grew somewhat hollow and emptied against the grief clearly etched along his face. "She wasn't handling it well, so, I went back home to be with her." And Cal could see the toll it was taking on this young man, having to bear the weight of his mother's pain along with his own.

"You're a good man, you know," Cal said. "carin' for your mum like that." And the young man laughed at this, though he subconsciously shook his head in disagreement.

"You know..." He began, his voice low as it grew just a bit raw and husky through his emotions. "She wanted to bake him a cake for his birthday this year...so..." The man laughed, though this laugh was bitter and caustic as it left his lips, his expression pained with the furrow of his brows. "...we baked him a cake." He recounted this potent memory of having celebrated his dead friend's birthday with his mother as he looked to Cal. "It was just before Christmas."

"He would've appreciated that." Cal murmured quietly as he held the man's pained expression. "So, did it make you feel better, mate? Makin' him a cake?" And again the man laughed, yet it looked as if he were on the verge of tears.

"Me?" This came pushed through his laughter as he shook his head. "Hell no, man." He said as he finally caught himself with a labored sigh. "It made me feel like shit." These words spilled from his lips as he held Cal's gaze, his voice having taken on a determined tone. "But it's what she needed to do...so...it's what we did." Though this statement sounded so very pragmatic, Cal could tell through the microexpressions that played themselves along his features how selflessly this man loved his mother.

"How'd it turn out?" Cal randomly asked in an attempt to completely derail the man's somber thoughts.

"Not half bad, actually." The man rewarded Cal's successful efforts with a slight shrug and pensive expression as he spoke. "It was chocolate." He said in afterthought as a small smile lifted the corner of his lip. "I made the frosting." And Cal gave a small smile himself as the two fell into a moment of comfortable silence.

"So..." His words came slowed and somewhat curious as he looked Cal in the eye. "Did Kate _really_ hit Kris?" This question caused Cal to loose a small chortled laugh.

"News travels fast, aye?"

"You have _no_ idea." The man responded as he held Cal's stare with the lift of his pierced brow. "So..?"

"Yeah." Cal nodded. "She did." He said in answer to the man's question as he gave a lopsided grin. "Slapped him. Right across that mug of his." The young man bit along his lower lip at this, as if to subdue the smile threatening to brighten his features.

"Wish I'd been there." He whispered lightly. "Would've paid money to see that."

"Oh yeah?" Cal quipped. "How much?" He asked a little too eagerly. "'cause we got it on film, mate." He said with a cheeky grin towards the man's entertained expression.

"No shit." The man almost laughed, and Cal gave the playful waggle of his brows.

"Want a copy?" And this time, the man did laugh.

"Hell yeah." The man exclaimed. "How much?" He asked, having been serious about his willingness to pay in order to view the spectacle.

"For you?" Cal looked him over with a cockeyed smirk. "Free of charge." And the man's natural, easy-going smile almost showed itself along his lips.

Almost.

Until another lingering question darkened the corners of his hazel eyes.

A question it seemed he didn't want to ask, but needed to know the answer to.

"Is it true..?" He asked as his voice dropped to a breathless whisper. "About what happened to Aden," His words faltered a moment as he held Cal's gaze. "when he was a kid..?" This question hung in the air ominously as the two held each others gaze.

Cal began to wonder exactly how much this young man had been informed of during his sabbatical. It seemed possible he had at least talked to the deceased's girlfriend. Yet the way this man looked at Cal gave him pause in wanting to answer. The man's expression was expectant, yet oh so fragile. And Cal wondered if giving a truthful answer to this question would really be in the man's best interest. His momentary hesitation must have been answer enough, however, because the young man flashed a fleeting microexpression of disgust before his eyebrows pulled up and together as his facial features fell in sadness.

" _Shit_." This expletive came pushed through his teeth in a hiss as his brows knit together in pain. "It's true?" His husky voice rose infinitesimally with his indignation as Cal gave a slight bob of the head.

"'fraid so, mate." This came a somber reply.

"And _Kris_ knew about it?!" He asked as another brief microexpression of anger shaped his features when Cal gave another nod.

"Yeah." Cal conceded reluctantly to this unfortunate situation. "Found out the night he took him home." And he watched how the man attempted to mentally recall the night in question as his brows furrowed together.

" _What.._?" This came a bit baffled as the man gave the swift jerk of his head in disbelief. " _How_?" Cal's expression grew grim with this question.

"Your friend told him."

" _Why_?!" The man asked, unable to comprehend why the deceased would have confided in someone like their music producer.

Cal gave a drawn out sigh through his nose as his eyes narrowed along the man's baffled expression.

"You were there, mate." Cal said lightly. "At the party." This came through the lowering of his voice as he held the man's gaze. "He wasn't in the frame of mind to stop himself, and it just came out of him, right?" When he'd said this, Cal could see how badly it stung as the man lowered his head.

"I wish I would've known." He said. "I wish I would've known how much pain he was in. That he would've just _said_ something." His hazel eyes lowered to his lap with the threat of tears as his voice began to go hoarse. " _Shit_." He cleared his throat to try again. "I mean," There came a brief pause in thought before the man gave the shake of his head. "I can't even _imagine_ what it'd be like," He gave another small pause before continuing. "to have gone through what he did..." His eyes finally lifted towards Cal, a fresh desperation within their hazel depths as he spoke. "But if he'd told me, I would've understood."

He leaned forward in his seat, and oversized hands moved from his lap to fold themselves in prayer against his lips in a wordless, self-silencing gesture. As if something on his mind violently threatened to spill from his lips while he desperately attempted to keep it locked away. And in this brief moment of silence that followed, Cal watched as the man's misery slowly turned to guilt.

"I should've just taken him home." This came a hushed whisper through veiled lips and an excruciating expression. "Maybe if I had, he would've told me instead..." The man lamented, seeming as if he'd momentarily forgotten Cal's presence as he spoke to himself. "If it'd been me instead of Kris, I could have done something." He said. "Said something to him. Talked to him about it." Brows furrowed under the heavy weight of this burden. "Maybe if I'd been the one to take him home that night, he wouldn't have wanted-"

"Oi." Cal cut him off in his musing. "Don't go doing that to yourself, mate." He cautioned. "Blamin' yourself." And the man's tormented gaze finally lifted to Cal's face as if the young man were just now remembering he was there.

And he dropped his hands from his lips as self-directed anger shaped his pained expression.

"Why the fuck not?!" He spat with the swift jerk of his head as he held himself in contempt. "He was my _friend_." This fell hard and bitter from his lips as he looked Cal in the eye. "I should have done something."

"Yeah, maybe." Cal met the man's anger with a taut nod of agreement before he continued. "But blamin' yourself _now_?" Cal said as he held the man's gaze. "For what your friend did to him _self_ , mate..." These words came emphasized with that soul exposing gaze as he spoke. "It's not going to change what happened." His words came filled with conviction. "It's not going to bring your friend back, and it's not gonna do you any good, mate. Believe me" He said with the lowering of his voice. "I know. So don't go on torturing yourself, aye?" And the man gave Cal a look that came equal parts pained and angered.

"Then tell me what I _should_ be doing." He asked.

"Keep on doing what you're doing, mate." Cal said calmly with a look of determination as he gave the bob of his head. "Keep being a good son to your mum." He said, and the man's expression seemed to soften to this advice. "Just don't let this take you over."

"How?" The man asked with the furrow of his brows. "How do I do that, when _everything_ is a reminder?" This came a soft whisper from his lips. "When _everywhere_ I look, I see his ghost." The man spoke as one haunted. "The absence of him is everywhere I look. And..." He faltered in his words. "It's like this huge hole has been punched right through my chest." His gaze drifted towards the device in his lap. "I mean, the whole reason I even stopped by here in the first place was because I was on my way back to New York." His voice came pensive as he spoke. "Our latest album..." He murmured quietly before giving a bitter, pained snort of laughter as he shook his head in dismay. "It was nominated for a Grammy."

"Congratulations." Cal replied in earnest, and the man gave a weak, halfhearted nod of the head as his expression became vacant.

"It's gonna be a fuckin' shit show." He whispered lightly. "I know it." His hazel gaze drifted back to the device resting in his lap as he continued, his voice sounding far off and distant as he spoke. "The media's going to have a heyday with all of this when it comes out." He said. "...if it hasn't already..." His expression came filled with regret when he said this. "I just can't imagine that Aden would've wanted _any_ of this." A rueful sigh pushed through his nose as he gave a faint shake of the head. "And I can't help wondering if I did the right thing, you know? Coming to you." When the man finally looked up, Cal saw how heavy this decision weighed on him now in the aftermath of what had been discovered. "I mean, maybe if I'd just stayed out of all this, you guys wouldn't have talked to Kris and none of this would've been dug up." He said lightly with the faint lowering of his voice. "Maybe it would've been better that way. For Aden."

"Oh it would've been found out, mate." Cal looked him in the eye as he said this. "I know that, and so do you. 'cause that's how these things work."

"...maybe..." The man sounded less than convinced.

"See..." Cal's words came dramatically drawn out as he leaned himself back in his office chair, his eyes narrowed along the man's dubious expression. "That's the thing, you know," He said. "about the truth. It always finds it's way to the surface, mate. Always." This came pointed as he held the man's gaze. "So you can try an' hide it. Bury it. Run from it. Deny it an' lie about it. But the truth is always the truth." He said. "And yeah. Sometimes, the truth hurts, right? When it finally comes out. But it's never a _'bad'_ thing, mate." Cal lowered and softened his voice when he spoke his next consoling words. "It's never _'wrong'_ or a _'mistake'_ to want to know the truth, hm? To go on the look for it." He said lightly. " _Especially_ on behalf of a friend." And the man gave a disheartened sigh to these somber words of wisdom.

"It's going to get a lot worse, isn't it?" He finally looked to Cal with a dismal expression. "Before it gets any better."

"Yeah, maybe. A bit." Cal conceded with the light bob of his head. "But when the whole world starts talking about this, you'll be there, mate." And the man's brow furrowed to this.

"Be there to do what?" The man asked, and Cal's expression came serious with the strength of his next words.

"You go and remind 'em that he was a _bloody_ human being. _Your_ friend." Cal said. "You tell 'em that he mattered." And by the way the man nodded, Cal could see that he liked the sound of this.

And the two of them sat with this idea a moment as a comfortable silence settled upon their conversation.

"You know," The man murmured lightly as he looked down and away at nothing in particular. "I wish Aden could've met you."

"Oh yeah?" Cal asked through the beginnings of a wry, cheeky grin. "Would he have liked me?" He waggled his brows, and the man laughed at this as he shook his head.

"Nah." He said through a small pause of consideration. "Pretty sure he would've absolutely _hated_ your sarcastic, snarky British ass." This came honest in slight amusement and the smirk of a smile. "I mean," The man absentmindedly rubbed the back of his neck as that little smirk along his lips began to grow. "we _totally_ would've trash talked you behind your back, man." He said. "Would've been completely merciless about it, too." And Cal gave a small chortle of laughter towards the man's antics before he spoke again, his hazel eyes just a bit sad as they finally lifted towards Cal once more. "But." His voice came a faint whispered murmur. "I wish he could've met you anyway."

* * *

 **A/N: For those of you who know and love Gabe (you know who you are) I am sorry...**

 **Also, I have thought long and hard about compling a list of songs from Bring Me The Horizon that have in some way influenced this piece. And I guess now is the time to share that list! Here you go. Asterisk indicate some language. Double asterisk mean double the risk. Ahahaha ha ha ...ha. Ehem... So here's the list. I hope you listen and enjoy!**

 ** _Hospital For Souls*_**

 ** _And The Snakes Start To Sing*_**

 ** _Diamonds Aren't Forever**_**

 ** _Can You Feel My Heart_**

 ** _Happy Song**_**

 ** _Don't Go_**

 ** _Deathbeds_**

 ** _Sleepwalking_**

 ** _What You Need*_**

 ** _Blasphemy_**

 ** _Doomed*_**


	24. Outro

**A/N: If you know me, you know that I usually mark my pieces of work with a song at the end. And, as this is the end, featured lyrics at the end of this chapter are from the song "Hospital for Souls" by Bring Me The Horizon. So this marks the end of this tale. Almost a year in the making. I'm not sure if I shall write for this fandom again, though if inspiration strikes me you can count on me to return. But know that, in this story, I have given you all the very best of me.**

* * *

 _In memoriam of the soul of Chester Charles Bennington_

 _March 20, 1976 – July 20, 2017_

 _In honor and respect of the loved ones he left behind_

 _To all those troubled souls who went before him_

 _To all those troubled souls who've gone since_

In the blink of an eye, the first month of the new year was gone. And Cal found himself of two minds about this. The quick passage of time. With the new year, however, it seemed old ghosts had followed. Ones that lingered and lurked in the dark places of his office and the corners of his mind despite the forward march of time.

Since the end of November of the previous year-when The Lightman Group had concluded their investigation into the suicide of Aden McCaffery, front-man of the prominent up-and-coming rock band, December's Child-Cal had taken to cleaning house. And he had begun with the manager of December's Child, Shawn Evens.

When Cal had met the woman in November-immediately following the press conference held by the band's recording label, where she had so artfully made a public statement over the young musician's death on the studio's behalf-it had been the first, last, and only time he had actually spoken to her. And he knew that he hadn't made the best impression upon the woman. Not with the way he had so tactlessly uncovered her affair with the band's producer, Kristean Mitchell. It was clear the woman held herself to the very highest standards of professionalism, so It was no surprise to Cal how she had become so upset over being completely scandalized by a total stranger. Anger spurred on through embarrassment.

But when he had personally attacked her colleague in the very same meeting, Cal had seen another form of anger as well. One more unsettling, motivated by infatuation and fiercely protective loyalty. The woman was not only in _lust_ with the man, but in _love_ with him as well. She'd given her heart to him, and she put herself in a precariously dangerous position when loving a man like that. Cal knew this, but wasn't so sure if the woman was as aware. When speaking to her, Cal knew this woman was aware of her lover's propensity to be completely vicious and quite contemptible. In truth, Cal wondered if the man's savagely direct nature and brutality with words wasn't part of what drew her to him. Like a moth to a flame. But Cal doubted that she was completely aware of the man's ability to become unhinged and violently lash out in physical aggression when pushed.

He didn't know if the woman was aware that her lover had already attempted to hit another woman. When he'd attempted to strike the dead musician's lover across the face in retaliation during Cal's interview with him. But Cal was absolutely certain of one thing. Even _if_ that had been the first time the man had tried assaulting a woman, which Cal wasn't entirely convinced of, it _certainly_ wouldn't be the last. That level of anger and propensity towards violence was dark. Deep-seated. He'd seen it before in his father. And it wasn't something that would go away, or could be dismissed. Not without serious consequences. So, Cal had done the only responsible thing he _could_ do, and had sent a copy of Kristean Mitchell's interview to the woman with a note of warning. Cautioning her that, given the right trigger, it was only a matter of time before he would hurt her...if he hadn't already.

Cal hoped that Shawn Evans would take his advice. That she would heed his warning. That she would break ties with Kristean Mitchell. But he found himself grappling with the fact that he would never know if she left him, and there was _nothing_ he could do if she didn't. If she stayed, it would merely become an awful repetition of his own mother and father's savage, violent relationship. Played out by different actors, on a different stage, but with the same devastating outcome. A reenactment Cal personally never wished to see again.

In this matter, he had needed to settle for doing what he could, and hoping for the best. Along with the fact that he'd never know, one way or the other, how it would end up between the two of them.

Maybe that was best.

With this somber resolve, Cal had moved on to the second order of business in the way of getting his house back in order. So he had spent the entire month of December attempting to contact the musician's bandmate in order to return the man's device. To be rid of it and all of the memories it contained, because they weren't his to have and hold on to. It had taken over a month for Gabriel LaGrange to grace Cal with his presence, in passing, on his way back to New York to attend a music awards ceremony.

The two had talked for quite some time that day, after Cal had returned the man's hand-held camcorder. The drummer had expressed how he wanted to honor his friend's memory. To create some good from the tragedy of his suicide. The two had spend the rest of that afternoon in Cal's office, bouncing ideas off of each other. That evening, Gabriel had departed. Armed with information, a bare-bones outlined plan for a non-profit organization in support of suicide awareness and prevention, and a good-faith endorsement from The Lightman Group.

The man had seemed undaunted in the face of the road ahead of him. The work it would take in starting up this organization. And Cal had no doubt that he would succeed.

For a moment, Cal wondered if this meeting with the deceased musician's friend hadn't been the closure he himself had needed. That maybe supporting this man's endeavors from the sidelines was the catalyst he had been looking for to finally move on from this case. To let it go and lay it to rest, so to speak.

But a few, short days later proved him wrong.

The music awards ceremony, the 60th Grammy Awards, was aired the weekend of Gabriel's visit. Broadcast live in Madison Square Gardens. The first telecast in New York City since 2003. It had been a Sunday. Cal had remembered finding that just a bit odd as, if memory served him, it had also been a Sunday when the troubled musician had decided to end his life. And the deceased's friend had been right about the awards ceremony. It had been a complete media circus.

The band's latest EP album had been nominated, and won, an award for 'Best Rock Album' of 2017. And, in a twisted show of dark, bitter, irony, the band's producer had also been nominated. And won. Receiving a Grammy Award for 'Producer Of The Year', in the Non-Classical category. Both men, the front-man of December's Child and the producer who had discovered him, were idolized and adored. Raised up and praised by their own community, and glorified by a world that stood in awe of their accomplishments.

And _both_ men were eerily absent from this self-indulgent ceremony.

Neither one had been present to bask in the glow of this event. The glory of having received such an honor. Neither man was able to accept the accolade which had been bestowed upon them by the music industry and their many adoring fans.

But that didn't stop the band's music producer from creating a spectacle anyway.

With moxy of rock-star proportions, the man had made a bold statement by filming his acceptance speech beforehand for the award and sending it into the Grammy's for them to play at the ceremony while someone else collected the award for him by proxy. And it was truly horrific, in every sense of the word, how the attendees absolutely loved it. But it was no surprise as to how the man had accomplished success on such a grand scale. This was _his_ world. _These_...were his people. And he knew how to gain their applause and adulation.

He had given them music.

He had given them scandal.

He had given them _everything_ they had wanted.

Then he had left them all with something to talk about in the wake of his avant-garde absentee acceptance video.

And they _loved_ him for it.

In a world that was obsessed with its own destruction, where the death of an icon was glorified, Cal began to question what it was that he himself was doing. Who was he, in this world that celebrated death and craved its own demise? Where did he stand in this world where the downtrodden and abused became a suicide statistic? A number. Having become a seeker of truth through the suicide of his own mother, was _he_ a catalyst for justice? A voice for the voiceless? Was he a defender of the powerless, or simply fooling himself with the handful of cases he had managed to make a difference?

Driven by the death of his mother...

In his search for truth.

In his search for answers.

...had he really made a difference at all..?

Sitting with his daughter on their living room couch, Cal watched the continued celebration of death in this industry as, in a show of memoriam, a list of names came displayed of those artists who had not lived to see the next day. Sad, sorry souls who had not made it to the new year. And Cal saw how the troubled musician's name had been added, though no one dared breathe a word of _how_ he had made it on the list of this macabre homage to the dead.

Cal doubted that any of them cared.

He doubted...that any of them would _really_ know where it had started. Where this young man had begun his slow descent into wishing for death. When it was, exactly, that he had begun to crave his own destruction. Cal wondered about this with the young man, as he did with his own mother from time to time. Where it might have first started. This overwhelming desire for death.

 _And then I found out how hard it is to really change._

Had its birth come about through his childhood abuse? Scars he carried with him into young adulthood until their weight had become too much for him to bear?

 _Even Hell can get comfy once you've settled in._

Had this desire come through reaching maturity in an industry that had descended upon his vulnerability. Marketing and selling his tortured screams and heartlessly exploiting the tragedy of his youth as a form of entertainment for the eager masses who claimed to love him.

 _I just wanted the numb inside me to leave._

Had he simply possessed a soul too sensitive to endure the harsh world he had been born to and raised in? Had he felt too much, too deeply? The sheer agony of this leaving him raw and bleeding out until he felt nothing at all?

 _No matter how fucked you get, sorrow is there when you come back down._

Had his flirtation with drugs and alcohol left his troubled mind dangerously susceptible to acting upon dark thoughts and these darker desires for death?

 _The funny thing is...all I ever wanted, I already had._

Had his childhood trauma and pain left him blind to the glimpses of good in his life?

 _There's glimpses of Heaven in every day._

Had the support of his friends and loved ones come too late?

 _In the friends I have..._

 _The music I make..._

 _The love that I feel..._

Did he crave death because love had come to him when he was already too far gone? Too entrenched in this belief that he didn't matter.

 _I just had to start again._

Cal doubted that any of them would know for certain how it had begun. But one thing was for certain. With Aden's death, the whole entire world would know how it had come to end.

 **SUBLIMINAL MESSAGES FROM THE DEAD**

The days are

A death-wish

A witch-hunt for an exit

I am powerless...

The fragile

The broken

Sit in circles and stay unspoken

We are powerless...

Because we

All walk alone on an empty staircase

Silent halls and nameless faces

I am powerless...

Everybody wants to go to Heaven  
But nobody wants to die  
I can't fear death, no longer  
I've died a thousand times

Why explore the universe  
When we don't know ourselves?  
There's an emptiness inside our heads  
That no one dares to dwell...

Throw!

Me!

To!

The!

Flames!

Watch me burn!

Set!

My!

World!

Ah!

Blaze!

Watch me burn!

How are we on a scale of one to ten?!  
Could you tell me what you see?!  
Do you wanna talk about it?!  
How does that make you feel?!

Have you ever took a blade to your wrists?!  
Have you been skipping meals?!  
We're gonna try something new today!  
How does that

Make

You feel?!

Hold me close

Don't let go

Watch me

 _...burn..._

Hold me close

Don't let go

Watch me

 _...burn..._

Hold me close

Don't let go

Watch me

 _...burn..._

In this hospital for souls

Hold me close

Don't let go

Watch me

 _...burn..._

Hold me close

Don't let go

Watch me

 _...burn..._

Hold me close

Don't let go

Watch me

 _...burn..._

In this hospital for souls

Hold me close

Don't let go

Watch me

 _...burn..._

Hold me close

Don't let go

Watch me

 _...burn..._

Hold me close

Don't let go

Watch me

 _...burn..._

In this hospital for souls

.

.

.

Hold me close!

Don't let go!

Watch me burn!

Hold me close!

Don't let go!

Watch me burn!

Hold me close!

Don't let go!

Watch me burn!

In this hospital for souls!

Hold me close!

Don't let go!

Watch me burn!

Hold me close!

Don't let go!

Watch me burn!

Hold me close!

Don't let go!

Watch me burn!

In this hospital for souls!

 **END**


End file.
